


Over the Edge

by AnonGrimm



Series: Equilibrium: of Cruelty and Pain (Sabretooth) [7]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Sabretooth aka Victor Creed (Marvel Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: "Foul" Language, Abuse and Torture Flashbacks, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Consensual sweet homosexual sex - whaaat? Wild I know..., Dom/sub Play Elements, Felching, Graphic Slash Sex, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, IronTooth - Freeform, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Misogyny, Oral Sex, References to Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Self-Hatred, Sexism, Vehicular Violence, a little bit of spanking, consent games, references to cannibalism, references to rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-08-12 21:06:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 63,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7949194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonGrimm/pseuds/AnonGrimm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sabretooth shows up at Iron Man’s mansion in Malibu for their “second date”. Tony wants to learn how to progress things between them as well as how to put Victor at ease in his high-tech home. Victor just wants to have as much time with the inventor as he can get – convinced it will all inevitably go downhill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Taming of the Beast

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not post this story anywhere without the author’s permission. Thanks. Feedback and constructive critiques are welcome, too. Just comment, email me at anongrimm@msn.com or tweet: @MET_Fic
> 
> Sabretooth is a gleeful villain and I don’t plan to redeem him here; if you like evil main characters, enjoy! If not, you might want to re-read the tags...
> 
> TIMELINE: After Iron Man (Movie 1), before Iron Man 2: therefore, Tony is not yet an Avenger. This is the IronTooth sequel to “Cutting Edge” and it also occurs after “Vices and Virtues”, Victor’s encounter with Jean Grey in Nepal. My Sabretooth is based on the blonde mutant in the comics but Tony will be largely movieverse with a little influence from the comics.
> 
> My Sabretooth is inspired by the version of him when they draw him sexy and write him as an intelligent, though brutal, character. Rather than make this note as long as the story, you can get more details at my personal fanfic blog: mindseyetheatre.net or look up Sabretooth on the Marvel Comics wikis and databases. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic)

Crowded streets are cleared away  
One by one  
Hollow heroes separate  
As they run

You’re so cold  
Keep your hand in mine  
Wise men wonder while strong men die

Show me how it ends, it’s all right  
Show me how defenseless you really are  
Satisfied and empty inside  
Well that’s all right  
Let’s give this another try

If you find your family  
Don’t you cry  
In this land of make believe  
Dead and dry  
You’re so cold  
but you feel alive  
Lay your hand on me  
One last time

Show me how it ends, it’s all right  
Show me how defenseless you really are  
Satisfied and empty inside  
Well that’s all right  
Let’s give this another try

It’s all right  
It’s all right  
It’s all right

~ So Cold (Breaking Benjamin)

*****************************************************************

 

Victor crouched on top of the concrete buttress at the southern end of the Bixby Creek Bridge in Big Sur, California and watched the sun setting over the Pacific. The wind was warm as it tangled his ponytail and made the beads tied into the hair sway around his face.

He’d stashed his sniper rifle behind the lone tree on the side of the hill behind him at the start of the bridge, but several cars still honked as they passed him. Whether they were startled over seeing him there or alarmed he might jump (or hoping he would) he didn’t know and didn’t care.

The job at the Point Sur Naval Facility, which had been derelict for almost twenty years, had been easy and boring, and on impulse, he’d just started walking along Pacific Coast Highway 1. The bridge had been a target to aim at but the farther away from both his Hummer and Malibu he went, he had to face the fact that he was stalling.

_Should probly just get tha hell back t’ LAX an’ forget this fucked up idea. What’re ya waitin’ fer, some neon sign in tha sky that says ‘go fer it’?_

He turned to look when he heard a car slowing down. It was a new silver Maserati Spyder convertible, driven by a stunning carrot-top redhead. She had a blue headscarf around her hair. He knew her, though he’d never met her.

“Hello! Are … you okay? Do you need help?” she called out.

 _Well, fuck me runnin’ – that is Pepper Potts._ Victor growled as the sound of a Detroit iron missile came up fast behind her in the dimming twilight. “Step on tha gas or get crunched!” he yelled back, but it was already about to be too late. Snarling, he jumped without a thought in his head but to protect the woman – just as he’d promised to.

Leaping behind her car, he got there just in time for the speeding white Impala SS to slam his body between the two vehicles. He dug in with his boots to stop the thing from hitting her hard enough to either tumble her off the bridge through the rail or smash her into it with an engine in her lap.

His weight crushed her trunk in and popped the front of her car into the air as the impact shoved all of them forward. Pepper screamed, abruptly finding herself staring at too much of the darkening Pacific as her Maserati was perched on the concrete rail of the bridge.

Victor roared in pain and rage, glaring at the other driver. The Impala was damaged but it was operational enough to be thrown into reverse. He caught the driver’s scent – male, twenty-something, drunk – just before the car turned to get around them and drove off back the way it had come in a cloud of white, sweet-smelling smoke.

Leaning his upper body weight onto the back of Pepper’s Maserati, he managed to keep himself from falling forward, or her from toppling down nearly 300 feet. The real challenge was hanging on: without the Adamantium skeleton, he might have been cut in two.

“Get outta tha seat an’ crawl back here, feet on tha bridge!”

“Oh my God, you’re alive?”

“Fuckin’ do it! Rather not find out if tha car’s ‘bout t’ nosedive with ya in it!”

His body was healing fast, but it still hurt like shit. By the time she managed to obey, he didn’t look nearly as gory as he had.

“I thought you were sitting there to jump off the bridge… Oh, God, I’m so sorry! My purse, my phone, I can call 911 – it’s still in the car!” Looking at his injuries through the ripped up shirt, she gasped when she saw them healing in front of her eyes. “What is…? How are you doing that?”

“Talent.” He licked the blood off his lips that had burst from his mouth on impact. “See that cut in tha buttress, under where I was? Tha bench? Stand there, outta tha road.”

When he felt he could handle it, he lifted his weight a little to see if the car would topple. It didn’t move.

“Gonna get yer car down.” He didn’t blame her for looking confused.

“But you’re hurt, you’re … crushed in the … middle…”

She started forward again with ‘I have to help’ face, until he growled at her, showing teeth.

“Put those pretty legs against that bench an’ don’t move ‘til I say ya can.”

Victor turned his body and eased his full weight back onto his boots. Walking to the rail with a slight limp that disappeared by the time he got there, he put his arms under the car and lifted it, pushing to roll it back away from the edge. He gritted his teeth over the pain, not wanting to inspire her Good Samaritan schtick any further.

Ignoring her stare, he sniffed and saw that the moron had parked his Impala on the opposite side of the bridge, where tourists could stop to take photos. Odds are, his plan for a hit-and-run had been vetoed by the damage to his muscle car.

“Oh, my…” Pepper whispered, as he put her car down.

“Now ya can move. Get in, drive over there where he is an’ wait fer me – before ‘nother car hits us.”

The Maserati didn’t sound too bad when she drove off the bridge, even though the bloody back end was a goner. Feeling the buzz of healing fade, he dropped into a crouch and loped on all-fours across the highway to retrieve his rifle. Letting a few cars pass, he rushed back to the infamous Pepper Potts, Tony Stark’s number one.

Her eyes were wide with shock as he approached and swung the rifle off his back from its strap to lean it upright in her passenger seat next to her purse.

The Impala driver had been about to get out of his car, saw Victor, and got back in it.

Smirking, Victor looked down at Pepper. Her blue power suit was only a little rumpled. The headscarf had been blown off her hair to hang around her neck but she didn’t look or smell injured.

“All in one piece, darlin’?”

“I’m okay. My airbags and I now have trust issues…”

“Rear hit an’ mostly hit by me ain’t gonna deploy ‘em. Headrest did its job.”

“You shouldn’t be okay…”

“Never better. Gotta bone t’ pick, though.” He turned to see the other driver’s hand on his ignition key. “Yeah, ya might wanna rethink that, asshole.” The man cowered in the seat with blood from a broken nose running down his face. “Yer radiator’s toast, ya know – I can tell by tha smell o’ that smoke. Guess ya thought airbags are fer pussies?”

“Is he hurt?” Pepper called.

Victor sighed, his ears pinning. _Witnesses I can’t slash are a real buzzkill._ “Now I’m bettin’ tha lady won’t want me t’ kill ya, but ya done pissed me tha fuck off, so get outta tha car.”

He obeyed, shaky drunk, and backed away from Victor. “I’m so sorry, man.” He glanced at Pepper. “Are you okay?”

“She’s fine an’ ya don’t get t’ talk t’ ‘er.” He strode over to the back of the white 1967 Impala SS hardtop. It wasn’t a 1963 or ‘65 convertible, so no real loss. “Yer drunker’n Cooter Brown, though, so yer walkin’ home.”

“It’s probably a loose hose – my car can drive just fine.”

“Sure ‘bout that?”

Growling, he grabbed it by the back end and picked it up. With a twist of his arms and upper body, he threw it. Spinning in a neat barrel roll over the boulders marking the edge, the car flew off the cliff as both of them cried out in shock. Around 280 feet down, it crashed and rolled some more before coming to a crumpled splashing stop on its collapsed roof, with half of it in the surf.

“Hollywood lies, ya know,” he told them as he watched the waves swamp the wreckage. “They hardly ever explode.” Victor turned, letting his claws slide out. “Get walkin’, Cooter – that way.” He pointed back across the bridge, the direction the idiot had been driving when he hit them.

The man paled, looking like he might fall over and barf, but he wisely ran off instead.

Pepper sank down low in her driver’s seat backwards as he walked back to her car. She was on her knees in the red leather seat to watch him talk to the man and as he took in her figure, he smiled.

 _Nope, can’t blame ya a bit, Tony._ He picked up his rifle and slung it to his back by the strap again. “Are ya sure yer okay t’ drive home?”

“I’m … going to my … boss’s house but – can’t I drop you off somewhere? I mean, you saved my life and I … um…”

Victor smirked at her. “Guess that means yer not mad I crushed yer trunk? I ain’t fittin’ in that li’l Matchbox two-seater, an’ ya probly shouldn’t be seen with me, darlin’. ‘Sides, I was enjoyin’ a breath o’ fresh air an’ view – gonna get back t’ that. Drive safe.”

“Can I ask … who you are?”

“Ya just did.”

Winking at her, he stepped up onto the top of the concrete railing and walked along it back over the bridge. When her car passed him, she waved and drove off toward Malibu. She looked pale and spooked but otherwise no worse for wear. He stopped on the rail ahead of the buttress as the light faded away and stared down at the scarred concrete where her car had landed.

_Well, does a flashy redhead count as a sign? Did ya accept that borin’ job an’ haul yer ass all tha way out t’ tha Land o’ Fruits an’ Nuts fer nothin’ or what? Still gotta delivery t’ make – if he ain’t home or won’t answer tha door, just ship tha damn thing t’ tha man an’ call it a done deal._

His clothes were torn and soaked with blood, but he could clean up and change in his room – once he got back to his vehicle. The thought that Stark might have decided he regretted the offer to see him again upon delivery, made him hesitate until he growled.

_Pull yer head outta yer ass. Make a fuckin’ choice an’ do it, don’t pussyfoot ‘round like a bloody moonstruck idiot._

Looking back over his shoulder to where he’d thrown the Impala, he sighed.

 _Coulda taken that an’ driven back t’ tha H1; my impulsive nature is gonna ruin ‘nother pair o’ good boots._ Then he remembered the moron and licked his lips. _Healin’ factor could use a toppin’ off after all that – bet that marinated steak ain’t got too far…_

~ ~ ~

No one asked any questions when he walked back up to the Ventana Inn and Spa in the dark from their narrow parking lot off the highway with blood staining his scruffy face and drying on his clothes. He stripped in the suite, showered, shaved around the sideburns, and then stood over his duffel bag with his long hair rolled into the towel on his shoulders to help it dry faster.

Grabbing a new pair of black jeans and setting aside a black Rammstein t-shirt, he started to dress, sitting to put on socks and boots. The treads on them had proven impressively tough after all.

He checked his phone – happy he’d left it in the car, all things considered – but there were no messages, texts, or missed calls from Stark. He’d left plenty for the inventor, spanning over four months since November in New York. It was now March – without a peep of a response.

 _Time fer wishful mouthwashin’, gettin’ tha mop dry, an’ hittin’ tha road,_ he thought as he tossed the phone onto the shirt. _Figure out where yer goin’ by what exits ya blow past on tha way._

~ ~ ~

Malibu won, but he didn’t get as far as the mansion on the promontory. Not sure if it was habit or melancholy, he ended up at the safe house – the one he had given to Tabitha. From the beachside porch, Stark’s weird UFO house perched on Malibu Point could be seen clearly.

Tabitha’s big black truck wasn’t there, but he didn’t know if she had already left to see their son or if she’d be back soon.

Just to be safe, in case of visiting X-friends, he drove back down the street and parked behind a flower shop. On impulse, he went in and got her white roses in a crystal vase. He stopped back at the truck to pull one out and leave it behind in the cab. Pausing, he set the vase on the seat and unhooked the choker of finger bones and teeth from his neck. Shoving it under the CD case, he carried the roses back to the house.

_If she left fer up north, they’ll be dead by tha time she gets back, but it’s ‘sposed t’ be tha thought that counts._

His key was still hidden where he’d left it – under one of the huge boulders at the side of the driveway. He found out she had never changed the locks, and left the vase on the coffee table in the living room.

Resisting the impulse to snoop, he went out back, found his old favorite stout wooden beach chair on the porch, and stared up at the weird structure that capped Malibu Point.

Long before she knew he was there, he heard the truck approaching. He got up out of the chair and waited in front of it, half tempted to just escape along the beach and return to his vehicle.

Her gasp sounded moments after the front door was opened. “Victor? Are you still here?”

She didn’t sound or smell afraid of him – that was something, at least. He listened as she searched the house for him, still tempted to bail, but his boots wouldn’t move. When she burst through the back door and saw him, a bright smile on her face and arms opened wide, the sight of her pierced him and made his heart rate speed up.

“Victor! Oh my God, I’m so glad you waited. I’ve missed you!”

He held her close after she flung herself against him, leaning his head down to scent her golden curls. She wore the type of sundress she’d begun to like in Mexico, with leather sandals. The dress was chiffon, white with yellow marigolds and string straps, almost a miniskirt in front with a flowy length to her knees in back. It clung to her tan figure and gave her that California hippie look – without the flowers in the hair. The diamond earring studs he’d sent for Christmas nearly covered her earlobes. She didn’t fuss to be let go, but he released her before her scent and touch could spark his heat any worse than it already had.

“I’m about to go visit Silas again, leaving tomorrow. I am so happy to see you. Have a seat? Can you stay for a little bit?”

“Was headed back t’ LAX, just sorta … ended up here. Gotta make a delivery but…” His gaze flicked up to Stark’s house. “Maybe I’ll just ship it. Does yer post office let ya mail black market superweapons?” He winked and smirked to lighten his odd statement. Reclaiming the chair, he watched her as she sat in the one next to it.

“Probably not.” She glanced over her shoulder up at Malibu Point. “Something for Iron Man?” When he didn’t reply, she added with a smile, “I figured out this was another safe house on the second day I was here, and one look up there told me why you picked it.”

“Can’t beat tha view.”

“I bet he can top it. I joke about borrowing a cup of sugar just to see what it looks like inside. Have you been in there?”

“Nope.”

“I was surprised you gave this house up – even though I read in the fine print that ‘Victoria Sévenat’ gets first dibs to buy it back if I ever want to sell it.” She leaned forward slightly, maybe unaware it showed off her cleavage – which was also tanned. So she had found the sun room... “I don’t mind hearing about him; did you finally get to meet?”

“Saved ‘is ass in tha Arctic Circle – he helped me pull down a Hydra base ‘round their ears in return. Delivery’s a Hydra weapon, experimental I hope, that I said he could have. He said he wanted it.” Victor shrugged. “I was in town on a job.”

“So maybe just head up the hill and ring the doorbell? Or is that crush passé?”

“No, it ain’t – also dead in tha water. Rather not jaw ‘bout it.”

“No problem. Can I get you a drink? The bar came pre-stocked, and I barely touch the stuff.”

“Don’t need nothin’ – can’t stay long.”

Tabitha studied him in silence a moment and then stood up and shucked off the sandals. “Humor me? Ditch the boots. I need sand in my toes.”

He did as she asked and let her lace their fingers for a stroll down the beach. He’d forgotten how short and slender she was.

“How is Silas doing?”

“Fine … but ya know that already – yer up there often ‘nuff.”

“Does it bother you?”

“It ain’t a prob, darlin’.”

“Which means it bothers you…” she whispered.

He stopped and turned to face her. “Only cuz not much changes fer me.”

“Victor, I still –”

“Hush now, babe... Can’t change it, lessen ya change how ya wanna live. If ya wanted that, ya woulda done it by now.”

Tears glittered in her eyes as the world began to darken. “This is so unfair – to you, I mean. I understand why you avoid seeing me. I’m sorry… I wish I knew how it could work.”

“Ya made tha choice ya needed t’ – fer yerself.”

“I miss … having you, being with you. I’m missing out on seeing you with our son…”

“Not sure what diff’rence that makes, long as ya get t’ see ‘im yerself – but if’n it means that much t’ ya … I guess I could meet ya up there sometimes.”

She grabbed him in a tight embrace and laid her cheek against him. “It means the world to me.”

After a moment, he shifted and she let him go. “Can’t do that, darlin’ – just makes me … want stuff I can’t have. Seen too much o’ that lately.”

Tabitha wiped at tears and tried to smile. “I’m sorry.” Lacing her fingers in his again, she turned them to face both the sunset and the house on top of Malibu Point. “Want some friendly unsolicited advice?”

“Shoot.”

“Rumors are stacked up around the Tin Man up there. I’d bet good money – your money, technically – that he likes girls and boys. Maybe you should give it a try.”

“Kinda hamstrung in tha usual approach – ain’t gonna impress ‘im with my money, that’s fer damn sure.”

“You have a lot more to offer than that, and rich guys never have everything they want – you know that. Use your delivery as an excuse and see how it goes? Try flirting a bit – you are one hell of a sexy devil.”

Smiling down at her, the purr sparked up. She tried not to melt over it, but the fact that she wanted to melt helped him to feel a little better.

“Might could try that, I guess.”

“That’s the spirit.”

They began to walk back to her porch steps. She went up them when he sat on the bottom step, and then she handed him the boots and socks with a little towel to wipe sand off his feet. While he got them back on, she sat on the porch behind him and played with his ponytail.

Victor slumped forward with forearms on his thighs, hands hanging between his knees. Tabitha leaned against his back, her forehead on his hair. The heat between them was banked, but it still burned.

“Sooner or later, I’m going to fall…”

“If'n ya want me t’ catch ya, I will – but it ain’t gonna change nothin’.”

“I know.”

“Tell those boys I’ll see ‘em later – kiss our cub fer me, huh?”

“I will.”

“Ya want tha key I used t’ get in?”

“No. I want you to be able to be here if you want that – anytime. The others don’t come here, I won’t allow it. I haven’t even told them where it is.”

Surprised a little, even though he hadn’t scented any of them in or near the house, he nodded.

“Victor, can I ask you something – about Victoria Sévenat?”

“It’s an alias o’ mine.”

“Your … mother?”

“Yup. That was tha name she gave up t’ become a Creed. Funny ol’ world, ain’t it? If’n she’d picked someone else, whole lotta other folks woulda lived t’ grow old.”

Her little hand gripped his bicep. “I don’t always know how to feel about all that, but I know I’m glad to see you – here and now, as you are. As for them, if they had loved you…”

“Can’t…” he whispered.

“It’s all right, Victor. It’s all right. Just … be okay, please? I try to imagine that you could be happy.”

Victor took her fingers from his arm and held them gently, his thumb rubbing over the knuckles.

“Gotta go, Tabs.”

She moved off his back and stood. “I love the white roses. I counted them, too.”

He stood and leaned down to kiss her curls. “Ya ever change yer mind, ya know where I most often hang my hat.”

“I’ve never seen you in a hat,” she teased, with tears rising in her eyes again. “I’ll see you with Silas – sometime?”

He nodded. “Be safe, Tabitha.”

She watched him as he turned away. He took the beachside path to walk around to the front and replaced the key under the boulder. Hands fisting at his sides, he began to walk away back to his vehicle. Inside it, the single white rose waited. He’d plucked it out of the dozen in order to tell her what he couldn’t say.

He let it sit on the passenger seat as he got in and slammed the door. Just down the street was a crossroad where one path lead to LAX and the other climbed up to Malibu Point. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he stared at the hulk of the crate covered in the black cloth from the Hydra airship. Nestled next to it was the locked case for his sniper rifle.

Tabitha’s encouraging advice, while unaware of all that had happened between him and the inventor, made perfect sense the longer he stared at both hidden weapons.

_Facin’ tha man should be easy – just slap a brash rogue mask over tha soft bitch bullshit an’ push all tha buttons ya can reach. Ain’t never had no rep fer bein’ a quitter…_

*****************************************************************

Calling it ‘finding the silver lining’ while Pepper had sighed and frowned, Tony had turned the accidental hole he’d put in his home into a newly-designed and high-powered Stark lift. Finding a better spot for his piano hadn’t been as challenging as finding a replacement piano but it had all worked out for the best.

The moment he landed on the target of the red and gold swirl pattern painted on the lift pad, motion sensors in the suit lit up seconds before a bullet whizzed in front of his faceplate and knocked a chunk out of the corner of the house.

Tony whirled, targeted the threat, and fired a repulsor shot, only to spot his attacker dodging it impossibly fast as the clearly insane fool laughed a very familiar laugh. Adrenaline burst into annoyance.

“Great idea, let’s play ‘shot by accident’ for fun.”

Victor Creed strode out of the dark onto the spotlighted driveway and patted the scope of a sniper rifle with silencer that he held in his giant paw.

“Felt like havin’ me a reminisce; ‘sides, ya need t’ be kept on yer toes.”

“I won’t pretend to be surprised you already know where I live.”

“Yer digs ain’t exactly covert, flyboy. Couldn’t get ya t’ return my calls, again, so I thought I’d ask in person – when are we havin’ that second date? Was it ‘sposed t’ be dinner or a sure thing? Been so long, I plum forgot.”

Tony smiled at the mutant’s arrogant smirk. “I did warn you how unreliable everyone tells me I am. Do you have my pulse device?”

“Not on me. Got it, though. My jet’s at LAX.”

“Well, in that case, there is no time like the present. Want a lift? This is a lift.”

“Long as there’s a bed at tha other end.” Victor walked up to stand in front of him.

“Can I haggle you down to a couch? It’s a really great couch.”

His guest growled when the opaque walls of energy formed a tube around them for the trip down. He had a trapped look about him as he watched the holes seal in the floors above them as they went. It gave Tony a wicked idea.

As soon as they stepped off the lift, the mutant walked away from it to lean the rifle against the wall by the driveway ramp before turning to face him.

Popping the faceplate up and grinning at him, Tony grabbed his wrists, pulled them over his head, and used the suit to push his powerful body against the wall beside his weapon. With the repulsor rockets on his boots, he was a match in height to the growling and glaring assassin.

Studying the feral features of the wild thing he’d caught, Tony leaned in to whisper in the twitching pointed ear, “I thought having a tiger by the tail was just an expression.” The thrum of the purr began as Tony moved in and kissed him. The suit started to feel alarmingly too tight downstairs with impressive speed.

“Ain’t got in my tail yet,” Victor answered with that low rasp. “Gotta trap door fer that fuckin’ sweet cock?”

“Such a mouth on you,” Tony admonished. He shifted the wrists to pin both in one armored hand and used the other to palm the straining stiff monster in the mutant’s jeans. “While I’m as tall as and heavier than, maybe I should just keep you pinned right here.” He squeezed the thick cock and wrung a groan out of his captive. “What if I just want to kiss and grope you until you come in your pants?”

“Do whatever tha hell ya want t’ me, Stark.” The purr modulated lower, vibrating in Tony’s groin.

Pressing closer into him, Tony gave him the suit for friction to rub himself against. Lifting his free hand, he held two of the armored fingers up to the soft lips. He couldn’t help a little moan as Victor’s mouth opened, allowing him to press the fingers in. The mouth and tongue began to do things that would have felt amazing on his skin, on his dick – but denying himself that sensation was almost as hot as receiving it would be.

_He’s skittish about the suit – but he’s letting me do this. We need to be naked, yesterday._

When the suit’s sensors detected the mutant’s desperate rubbing as an attack and sounded a warning in his ears, Tony chuckled. The softly glowing amber cat eyes were watching him. JARVIS spoke inside the helmet and he knew Victor could hear it.

“Sir, shall we contain this threat? This person is a felon, wanted internationally for –”

“Not now, JARVIS – this felon is wanted right here.” Deliberately getting too close to the serrated inner edge of a lower fang as he removed his fingers, he shifted the hand to press against and grip the mutant’s throat. “What should I do with you, Victor?”

“Came here t’ fuck – an’ get fucked.”

“Excellent plan.”

He moved fast for the fun of it, released him as he stepped back, and then grabbed him bodily and threw him to the couch a tidy bunch of yards away. When he landed, it was an afterthought to wonder if the couch could take it but it managed just fine.

Victor had growled in surprise but it turned into hunger in short order.

“Strip, I’ll be right there.” He moved to stand on his mark so that the machines could get him out of the suit.

They watched each other as the mutant pulled off clothes and the machines removed metal. When it all sank into the floor and he had escaped the ballistic mesh jumpsuit, he toed off his tennis shoes, hopped to get out of socks, and stopped to stare at the smirking furry behemoth lying naked on his couch.

“Honey, I’m home,” he murmured as he approached.

Victor sat up as Tony sank down beside him and he gasped as the mutant held his face and kissed him, gentle and slow. When he broke it, he lowered his forehead to Tony’s shoulder.

Not sure how to proceed from there, Tony let just let him do it.

“Ain’t been sleepin’ much,” the low voice whispered. “Feels good t’ slow down now an’ then.”

“Can you bunk over? I have the world’s most awesome bed upstairs, downright womb-like.”

“Didn’t even think ya’d lemme in.”

“I don’t usually bring home strays, not furry ones, anyway – but I’ll make an exception for you, Mufasa.”

That got him a light snort of amusement but it was clear that his guest had had a hard time of it lately. He laid a hand over the sideburn, his thumb carefully taking the liberty of stroking the smooth front edge of a wickedly long fang – the one that had been shot off saving Tony’s life, the second time. The low purr sparked by the touch made him ache for more. The mutant’s body was tense, as if he’d held it that way for days.

Tony leaned in to whisper in his ear, “Get on your belly for me, Victor.”

When he picked up his head and flashed that smirk, Tony knew it had been the right call.

He stood to get clear and the frame of the couch shuddered as the man turned and fell on it on his stomach.

Letting the vision inspire him of Victor trying to be patient as he lay there, exposed and observed, Tony began to strip out of his t-shirt slowly. A breath later, he yanked the jeans and underwear off at once. Patience was about to be defeated by pure lust.

Fetching the bottle of lube he’d left on the counter the night before, he stuffed his knee between Victor’s hip and the back of the couch and straddled him.

“Try not to claw the furniture.”

“Don’t need that goop.”

“I need it. Be good.”

Victor chuckled. “Ya know I’m good, that’s why ya lemme in.”

Tony didn’t answer. Slicking up his cock, he snapped the top closed and set the bottle on the coffee table. Fingers spread him to expose what he wanted. He knew this man didn’t need him to be careful or even to take the time to open him up – a lesson in futility, since it wouldn’t stay that way.

One foot on the floor, he pushed in and didn’t stop as the body under him reacted like he’d been hit by a mild electrical shock. Moving the blonde winding ponytail out of his way, Tony lay stretched out over the broad back bisected by fur and began to thrust, strong and smooth.

“You’re probably going to make my Durex stock plummet,” he told the mutant.

“Don’t need that neither – I’m on tha pill.” His claws were out but he was gamely trying not to put them in the couch.

Tony lost himself in just taking his pleasure, having learned it was what Victor liked. It wasn’t generally his style to be rough – another thing Victor liked – but his guest was so keyed up that he doubted it would be necessary.

“Give me a head’s up if Pepper comes down – before she actually does it,” he told JARVIS.

“I’ll keep a nostril open but I’m a little busy right now,” Victor replied.

He snarled and jerked his head up when the AI voice answered from the air. It was almost an eight-second ride.

“Of course, sir – Miss Potts is in the library at present. She did say she would like to speak with you.”

“Later, okay? Pass it on? I’m … ah … working.” Tony kissed Victor’s muscular back and tried to stroke smooth the raised hackles running down his spine. “That’s JARVIS again – he runs the house.”

“That’s nuts. Why’d ya need a talkin’ house?”

“I don’t get out much? My child therapist said I have trouble bonding with humans and prefer machines for company. If only he could see me now.” Tony pulled back and out, smiling at the growl he knew he’d get. “Four on the floor, honey, let’s go. I don’t need a pregnant couch. Just push the coffee table over, out of the way.”

The mutant’s growl changed gears again as he moved to obey. Tony rescued the lube but couldn’t save the coffee table before Victor flipped it over so hard that it slid out of the way upside down, scraping the thing up, no doubt.

“Oops,” Victor said and chuckled.

With a sigh, Tony tossed the lube onto the couch.

When Victor assumed the position, the ponytail swung down and pooled on the floor. Wasting no time, Tony got on his knees and pushed back inside. When he reached around the hip and gripped the hard thick cock in his hand, Victor almost buckled and growled lower with hunger.

“I forgot how big you are.” Grinning at the snort he got, he amended, “All of you, I mean. I can barely reach all the toys at once.”

“More challenge than yer latest skivvies model, I bet – ‘Cristiano Torres’, gimme a break.”

“Don’t be jealous, honey – everybody loves Brazil.”

Afraid he might lose it too soon, he slowed his thrusts and jacked Victor harder.

“I’m a ‘danger whore’, remember? You are the ultimate good time.” Taking a peek around at him, he watched the heavy lower jaw extend open as his elbows started to bend. “That’s a great idea – head down on the floor for me, kitty. Open wide…”

The hiss sounding under him didn’t surprise him as Victor obeyed; it was part of the thrill that he fought being dominated at every step, no matter how much his body craved it. The change in posture nearly did Tony in, too.

When he’d realized months ago that the healing factor would always make the sweet spot as tight as the first time, he had to get quietly drunk because the mutant had been in the wind and slender pretty Brazilian models just didn’t measure up.

“Can’t…” Victor said, his huge body starting to tremble. “Need…”

Tony kissed the ribs he could reach and felt his balls go tight. The man’s habit of asking for permission to come was going to make him lose it.

“Do it,” Tony whispered over his skin. “Ah damn, you feel so good…”

He squeezed the cock in his hand tighter and when it began to come, the thing almost tore itself out of his grip.

Tony thrust harder, letting the insane pleasure heat his skin. He wasn’t admonished to do this or be careful of that – Victor meant it when he told him to do whatever he wanted to him.

The moment Victor snarled and cursed as his orgasm ended, Tony’s hit him hard.

“Don’t move,” he spoke between panting breaths, “be still and let it happen. Oh, God…”

It pulsed through him, turning his muscles to water in its wake. When it was over, he felt a little dizzy.

Pulling out with some effort, abruptly aware of bruising knees, he struggled up and collapsed onto the couch. As Victor started to move, Tony grinned.

“Stay there.” Predictably, he was growled at. “Head on the floor, ass up and sticky, just like that. I may want to go again. I can’t recover as fast as you but still.” Watching for it, he saw him about to speak and chastised him. “No talking, Victor – but feel free to growl.”

In the end, he couldn’t just sit on the couch and do nothing. Rising to his feet, he began to walk around the feral creature where he crouched with head bowed. Hands stroked skin and fur at random.

Picking up the long ponytail, he wrapped it around his forearm and gave it a yank to make the snarl burst free. Moving behind him, he bent down and stroked the furry balls between the legs.

Underneath, he saw the heavy cock twitch. An unbroken line of pre-cum had dripped, refreshed and ready, and connected the uncut head to the mess beneath him.

Knowing it would both annoy and excite the man, Tony left him there to go to the fridge and get a beer. He leaned on a counter, drank, and waited. The mutant’s obedient and submissive posture, growls and all, was helping him along nicely. He tossed the empty bottle in the recycle bin and returned to stand behind Victor.

“I like you this way,” he told him, his tone casual. “Do you want me to do it again?” He smiled when Victor didn’t answer; he’d remembered the no talking rule, no matter how much the waiting was irritating him. “I guess that’s a no. I could leave you like this and go see what Pepper wanted.”

There was the growl. Leaning down, Tony pushed his index finger inside the mutant’s body, curled it, and stroked it over the prostate.

“You aren’t allowed to come yet.”

Grinning, he worked the powerful body into breaking a sweat. He was hard again and aching to sink in but he waited. Victor could scent his need, his heat as he called it, and Tony knew the smell would add to his torment.

_What else? I have to show him a good time…_

Looking around, Tony saw his leather belt still in the loops of his jeans. When he went to get it and came back, Victor snarled at him. Hanging it down from his hand, he let the leather brush the skin. He made a loop by sticking the tail through the buckle and got a serious growl when he slipped it over the mutant’s head.

“Don’t move and don’t come.”

He slid the belt tight around the throat. Wrapping the excess around his arm, he gave it a yank. The noises the creature at Victor’s core made had Tony’s dick bobbing in seconds. Unwrapping the leather from his arm, he paid it out over the back and held it as he moved into place.

“Not one muscle. You’re mine as long as you’re in my home, Victor.”

His hand fisted, pulling the leather tight. The bunched muscles of a trembling shoulder that partially trapped the belt was as effective as a come along winch, allowing him to hold the tension steady before he could pull again to tighten it more. When the head thrashed in a short and probably utterly involuntary protest, Tony was fairly sure he could achieve a controllable form of breathplay – aided by basic physics.

Standing behind him, Tony gave Victor a hard slap on his hip. “Lift up a bit – my knees are sore.”

He lined up while fisting his hand with the belt wrapped once around his wrist. Taking a deep breath, he yanked it tighter and shoved his cock deep, all at once.

In an instant, he understood why bullriding was such a dangerous sport. Victor was trying to obey the no movement rule but his instincts had to be shouting at him to fight. No growls told him that the belt was working just fine.

*****************************************************************

Victor shivered, his muscles trembling as the belt pinched his airway too tight to breathe much at all. The release before helped him to remain where he’d been told to stay, but the cock shoving in and the belt pulling tight had nearly driven him out of his head.

The beast within wanted blood instantly; it didn’t care that this was wanted, that the male proving dominance over him was a rare and prized lover.

His claws punctured the floor as if the concrete was warm butter. It was all he could do to concentrate on so many sensations and primal instincts at once and try to obey. The thick scent of heat and excitement from his lover was greedily sucked into his lungs, along with the smell of sweat and cum from before making it harder to hold back.

The belt tightened again and he thrashed a second time, unable to stop himself, as his airway was shut off. He couldn’t snarl and it drove him mad, yet his own heat was threatening to tear him to pieces. It went on and on, as the hard cock kept punching in and out of his body. The beast would be ready if it got the chance. Claws gouged, his fangs opened and snapped – but nothing under them would bleed.

His ears were pricked back to listen to Tony’s breathing as the need for air and the burning urge to come twisted in his fevered brain.

The gall of Stark was almost shocking – nothing was holding the beast at all except the thinnest thread of desire felt by his inhuman heart to obey, to please this man.

Victor stared out at the floor where the odd machines had removed and stored the metal suit. The beast knew the male thrusting deep, violating them and shaming their power, was just a human – smooth-skinned, soft … helpless. This thing was mere food. He thrashed his head and tried to fight, the claws scoring deep cuts in the floor. The edges of his vision were starting to blur.

Finally, he heard it – the hitch of breath, the deep groan. The cock that had fucked him into a submissive and beaten thing began to shudder as it spouted to fill him again. A hand touched his back, petting the stiff hackles.

“I’m going to let you breathe … when I do, I want you to come.”

Pain in his body, the ache of the need as the cock still thrust inside him, became part of the pain in his mind, far beyond the need for air. Denial of release hurt, driving him deeper into bloodlust. Fear scent, his own, exploded in his nostrils. His jaw dropped and snapped up viciously on air he was still denied.

Skin stopped slapping against skin and the cock drove deep and was held there. The tension on the thing around his neck was released with a rough tug and he sucked in air frantically. It came out as a bloodthirsty snarl. The hands gripped his hips, the body moving the cock inside him.

“Come for me now,” the voice ordered.

Conditioned to obey in these games before this male was born, his cock ignored the hunger for blood as his hips bucked. The pleasure tore its way through him to spit hot on the floor under him as he dropped his head and gasped. Every exhale was a warning growl.

The cock left his body but the hands did not. He snarled at the touch at first but then to his shock, he found that he craved it.

“Shift over, lie down.” The voice was softer, a balm.

_Reward._

“Come on, honey…”

He drew his knees in under him and stalked one bestial gait over before tipping and crashing to his side on the cool concrete floor.

The man sat next to his heaving ribcage with his legs crossed at Victor’s back, the hands still gently stroking him. When they reached to loosen the belt, he growled. The warning ignored, the hands loosened and removed it, tossing it away from them.

“Just breathe, honey – we’re done for now.”

Victor’s fingers slowly curled, the claws on them and on his toes retracting. When he could talk, he had to cough first.

“Yer a fuckin’ danger whore awright… Fuck…”

One of the hands petted over his chest, a fingertip rubbing a nipple. “You love it when I nudge your limits over a bit.”

“A bit? Wanted t’ eat ya near tha end.”

The man clicked his tongue at him. “You trust me.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t.”

Tony chuckled. “Can you walk? I did promise you a womb-like bed.”

“Dunno ‘til we try.”

“Give it a whirl, killer. This floor is hard.”

Victor went still. “I figured … ya’d want me t’ stay down here.”

“What, you’re my dirty little secret? A stray left in the basement with a pile of Little Friskies and some newspaper?”

Tony’s hand covered over Victor’s heightened heart rate as he caught his reluctant gaze.

“I’m not ashamed of you. This is a second date, right? Are you hungry? We probably don’t have any polar bear but there’s always something in the kitchen. They think I never eat. Or was the brief desire to eat me more metaphoric in nature?”

Victor balked for a moment, unsure what to make of that. The man had no idea what he had just survived messing with. Tony had also been outraged – disgusted – over what he’d seen in that restaurant freezer in West Hollywood.

_Is he makin’ a … joke? Yer too ragged an’ raw fer this, ya moron, an’ lettin’ ‘im do that was stupid. If ya’d lost control…_

As Tony’s slight smile faded, Victor looked away from those mischievous pretty eyes, not even caring if it meant losing some odd sort of challenge he didn’t understand.

“Maybe I should have stopped at, ‘are you hungry’?” His fingers brushed hair out of Victor’s eyes. “Hey, whatever’s going on in there – if it’s an endorphin crash thing or anything… You can tell me.”

Victor glanced back up at him, pupils narrowing in the blue light from his chest. “Not hungry,” he muttered.

A thumb smoothed over his eyebrow. “Bed, then.”

He found he could walk after a few more minutes. They were going to go upstairs to Tony’s bedroom, which wasn’t the back door and being kicked out. He was too nervous to hope but it crept in anyway.

Tony had stood and headed for the door and the stairs beyond the glass wall. Victor managed to come up behind him in time to see him touch the window in a specific pattern and the glass door beside it unlocked and opened. It was too strange to worry about, so he didn’t bother.

Turning two steps up to face him, Tony grabbed the base of his ponytail and hauled him in for a kiss.

“If you’re still a little whoozy, watch your step – I’m addicted to open staircases. There are some upstairs that don’t have handrails. It’s surprising how often people get vertigo on them, even the sober ones.”

Victor couldn’t care about stairs in that moment. The man’s heat was growing strong again and it layered over his grab bag of emotions like fog rolling in to hide a jagged cliff in front of him. Tony turned away to go up the stairs – the perfect lure to make him jump without a thought.

*****************************************************************

Hoping blindly that Pepper wouldn’t walk out and see them, Tony didn’t pause to show off the house along the way.

He had meant what he said about not being ashamed of the mutant but that didn’t equate to being ready to face Pepper about his latest paramour, what he did for a living, or his lethal factor – least of all his hard-to-ignore gender. She was old hat at cleaning up after his one night stands here at home … but they had all been women. Alas, he was after more than one night. Sooner or later, unless he did hide Victor like a dirty secret, the jig would be up.

The few glances he stole behind him as he led his feral guest through the house showed him a man who was not having the usual ‘in awe’ reaction to their surroundings.

 _He looks trapped … or waiting to be._ He regretted his panic at the Halloween carnival all over again. _That SHIELD threat sank in and latched on. Here I am trying to put him at ease with me, while my house, usually quite the babe lair/workaholic sanctuary, is actually giving off a ‘trap’ vibe. Great._ Odds were good that he hadn’t heard the last of the ‘why didn’t you call’ cracks, either. _Understandable. My grand plan to keep in touch got derailed spectacularly._

Life and work had both been insane since he’d parted company with Victor in November. The trip to see Hank in Westchester to get answers about the feral had been the last slice of free time he had found in the months that followed – not counting one Brazilian. How it had become March was a blur of missions, work, and press.

_Not to mention my stellar talent at forgetting to reply to people. Speaking of, I haven’t called Hank back ... damn. Now here I am doing my best ‘cool knit hat dangling from a stick’ impression, in the hopes of getting this lion to want to learn the value of consent. Meanwhile, he’s probably wondering if a helicarrier will fit in my driveway. My life is so weird. Sheesh, he’s quiet… It’s downright creepy that someone as big as he is can move that stealthy._

Tony entered his bedroom and made a beeline for the bed, while Victor headed for the window like a man who felt he couldn’t breathe.

_There’s that statue pose that first got me curious, in a tent out in a frozen wasteland. Scared to death of you, to be honest, but still all about it – mutant horse cock and all._

That perfect NFL ass he’d once gotten in trouble for lying about coveting was dusted with golden hairs that were soft like fur – because it was fur. Even the long blonde curly mane was the softest hair he had ever dug his fingers into.

With a start, he realized the ... hackles ... were at half-mast along his spine and forearms.

_That means a warning – fear, wary ... or anger? My money’s on wary. Hank said he would just ask you things to learn about you but that can wait. First order of business is getting those hackles to relax._

Things he had read in Hank’s medical file on Victor crowded into his thoughts as he admired the exotic creature, but then he pushed scientific curiosity aside and let lust creep back in.

_Victor, you are not my type – but maybe I don’t know my type as well as I thought. Damn, that body ... that mouth. Here, kitty, kitty..._

 

*****************************************************************

 **Note:** Research leads me in odd directions sometimes. For this chapter, I learned what sort of smoke Victor would smell and see from the hit-and-tried-to-run driver’s car, and what sort of damage both cars could take and still drive. Most of the locations here are real, as usual. "Tin Man" is yet another "Wizard of Oz" reference. If you haven't yet read "Redemption" in this series, that is where Victor and Tabitha's story plays out.

I’m still playing in the gray area between Iron Man 1 and Iron Man 2, but pretending for timeline purposes that it is a few years prior to 2008. Also, there may be longer delays between chapter updates now due to me being a bit late on updating my other WIP fics. Texas Chainsaw and the Joker need love, too. I want to start editing and posting my completed fics as well. They range all over the fandom map. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic)

*****************************************************************


	2. Stranger in a Strange Land

Here in the dark I can see who you are  
I see so clearly  
The beat of my heart just stops and starts  
Whenever you’re near me  
I just gotta thank you, all the love I gave you  
Came and you took it all away  
And now there is no pain  
there’s everything to gain here  
Now that I’m lost I think I’ll stay

In hell, there’s comfort in these flames and I don’t feel a thing  
In hell, I’ll forget your name here, you’ll become a stranger  
Become a stranger  
I’ll forget your name here, you’ll become a stranger  
you’ll become a stranger

~ Stranger (Skrillex)

*****************************************************************

The house above the workshop was surreal, alien, and largely circular. As Tony led him through it, he felt like he’d walked into a giant concrete conch seashell. Without the vaulted spaceship ceilings, skylight and panoramic windows, and the dichotomy of the warm earthy atmosphere, he would have felt an intense need to get out of it fast.

He had dismissed the warning about the stairs but some of them did give him a wiggins, especially the ones that had no frame, rail, or even base. They were thin and narrow concrete-over-steel platforms that looked like they had been inserted into the wall. He growled when Tony glanced back and saw him hesitate. It was enough to get him up them but the fear that they would not support his weight lingered.

Victor was led to what had to be the master suite. The huge bed, bound to be his favorite feature, could only be described as an odd modern art sculpture with a mattress and bedding on top.

Large open spaces with little clusters of fancy furniture here and there and the familiar type of floor-to-ceiling panoramic windows he preferred himself helped him shake off the nagging sensation of being led into a pretty cage.

The bed faced a long and low hearth, no mantelpiece, with a massive and confusing piece of art above it that was bound to hide a television screen. The wall of glass was bare with no curtains in sight. A short balcony wall and metal rail on the other side gave the illusion of being on a cruiseship.

Victor moved to the glass and saw nothing but night, stars, and ocean. He knew they were not in the flying saucer section of the house that hung over the cliff of Malibu Point, because the window wasn’t curved. They were probably behind and below it.

_That musta been tha bigger room we went through t’ get here – tha one I didn’t look at as much as tha view o’ Tony’s ass._

Tony was getting comfortable in the center of the bed and Victor could feel the man watching him.

“I have to admit – it’s a little strange to see you standing in my house.”

“Guess ya like bein’ roasted when tha sun hits tha window?”

“It dims on a time clock if I want it to.”

“Tha sun?” Victor turned and smirked at him to cover the unsettling awkwardness he felt.

Tony’s smile was bright and warm as he chuckled. “No, the window; come here…” He held his hand up and Victor went to take it, allowing him to tug him onto the bed. “See?” he said, tugging until he was almost on top of him. “Womb-like, as promised.”

Victor pinned him, held his face still and kissed him deeply. Breaking it to stare into those pretty brown eyes that danced with fresh mischief, he whispered, “Not gonna lie, I feel like I don’t belong here.”

When Tony shifted, Victor let him go and then drew in a deep breath as he watched him pull his knees up and spread them wide. His toes were already curling into the bedcover.

“That’s because you belong here,” he replied, his fingers stroking an inner thigh. “This time, I’ll let you do a proper prep – since I plan to be under you as often as on you.”

A purr thrummed as he moved between his legs. “Am I ‘sposed t’ show myself out in tha mornin’, so’s ya don’t gotta hide in tha workshop an’ leave Pepper t’ get rid o’ me?”

“Definitely not – you’re worth morning sex.”

Tony handed him some silky lube in a tell-tale white and blue bottle that he must have pulled out from under a pillow. It was far superior to the goop he had downstairs. Apparently, they had the same favorite brand.

“The lights are staying on too, I want to see you. They’ll dim and turn off after midnight if we pass out.”

Victor took the bottle and slipped down to lick and toy with everything in reach. When he sucked the pretty cock, he worked lubed fingers into the tight ass and thrust them in and out for a while as Tony threw his head back on the pillows and groaned.

“Is that three fingers? It feels like three… Time to play tonsil hockey from the other end, honey.”

“Got no patience, do ya?” Victor teased.

“I do, actually, just not in bed.”

The purr broke into a low growl as Victor got onto his knees, settled on his haunches, and yanked Tony up his thighs to spear his ass for old time’s sake. He thrust easy and slow, shallow, just to make him writhe.

When he couldn’t handle the torment of waiting anymore, he aimed for Tony’s next indrawn breath and shoved deep. The desperate sound that got him made him snarl as the pleasure overwhelmed him. He held the toned legs against his hips, snarling again with the effort to keep the claws out of his thighs.

Victor stared at the pretty blue glow of the arc reactor as he got lost in the sensations of having this man again. He had tried to run from it, struggled to stop wanting it, but the craving already went too deep. His thrusts slowed, became languid, as he attempted to savor how it felt. This mating would be over soon enough ... and once he turned over the weapon, it would be done.

Glancing up to see Tony watching him, those eyes excited and intense, he pulled his thighs wider and leaned down to catch the leaking cock in his lips. Using his tongue and blunt front teeth he pinched it between them to bring it up and then worked his throat and tongue to swallow it in like prey down the gullet of a snake.

“Look mom, no hands,” Tony quipped, before he gasped.

With his long back bowed, hips thrusting his cock deep, Victor relaxed his throat and began to suck Tony’s cock into it. Just short of cutting off his airway, he purred again to vibrate the thing and watched avidly as Tony’s body bucked helplessly in his hold.

“Victor, shit… I –”

The words were caught in the scream he tried to contain behind clenched teeth as his shuddering cock spilled straight down Victor’s throat.

As he followed a handful of strokes later, Victor made no attempt to keep quiet. It was all he could do to suck the last drop from the sweet cock before letting it fall to Tony’s sweaty abs. Arching up and back, he buried himself inside the man as far as he could push as his roar rang out and rattled the glass.

Tony laid there, still and panting, as Victor gently backed out of his body. He settled beside him and began to pull his back into his chest.

Tony whispered, “I was serious about morning sex. Don’t you dare sneak off.”

“Yes, Tony...”

Victor smirked at his chuckle and then scented and nuzzled his hair. He wished he could fill the man until it dripped back out around his shaft. It was difficult not to thrust himself, hard and ready again, into the cleft of that ass.

“What are you thinking?” Tony asked, looking at him over his shoulder.

Victor stared into his eyes. They were lighter near the dark iris edges. A contrasting almost russet brown star pattern burst around both pupils, the points of the stars streaking into the warm coffee brown. His lashes were black and lush. When Tony smiled, the amusement always reached those eyes.

For a moment, he couldn’t talk. “Ya probly don’t wanna know.”

“Try me.”

Victor shifted slightly, pressing against him more. His arm moved, his hand finding the arc reactor in Tony’s lightly hairy chest. A streak of silky lube was smeared over the cover as his palm rested on it.

“Need more…” he whispered, dropping his gaze.

Tony’s smaller but strong hand covered his over the reactor. “Me, too.”

“Ya want…?”

“Do it, okay? I trust you.”

His heat twitched in his veins and he had to work at being careful. He found the Sylk bottle by scent and got the man slicked and loose again. As gently as fierce need could manage, he guided himself back in slow and shallow.

“Go easy.”

“Ya don’t gotta –”

Tony pushed his hips back closer, working another inch inside. He smiled again and puckered his lips for a kiss over his shoulder.

Victor kissed him with a quiet passionate need and kissed his brow when he slowly pushed his cock deeper.

“I want you to get your fill,” Tony told him, his tone soft as he laid his head back down. “In the morning, I want to wake up with your teeth in my scars. I like to see them in the mirror. They’ve faded a little, I only have three – and I have a lot of orange juice.”

Unable to answer, he swallowed hard and began a gentle thrusting rhythm.

“Don’t take it personally if I fall asleep on you – I’ve been running missions since yesterday.”

Victor hesitated. “I can stop…”

“No, don’t … if you need it, just keep doing it.”

After a few minutes of silence, Tony gasped, moaned and pushed back again. Grasping Victor’s wrist, he placed his hand over his cock.

“You feel just as good this way. My God, that thing – it feels like being stretched to the limit. You can palm the reactor … after…”

“Tony…” he breathed, as his fingers curled, possessive and eager, around that hardening heat.

~ ~ ~

As the cloudy opaque dimmer faded from the glass, light crept in, warming the room and waking Victor gently. He knew exactly where he was and who was in his arms by scent and the feel and sound of the arc reactor under his palm.

If he had dreamed at all, he couldn’t remember it. A quiet sense of having slept soundly and peacefully crept over him.

When a soft mechanized voice, vaguely male and weirdly British, began to tell him about the weather and surf conditions, he twitched. Recognizing it as the voice of the UFO house, he managed to not growl, shivered a bit, and curled closer against Tony’s warm back.

He’d wallowed in him long after the lights had dimmed out but as the man had started to fade into sleep, Victor had pulled out of that friction-heated and filled comfort and used him as a pillow instead.

Careful not to jostle him, he moved slightly and let Tony ease onto his back. Leaning over and across his chest, he tried to ignore the talking house as he opened his jaw and set all four fang points over the trio of scars at the join of the neck and shoulder on his right side. He pierced the older marks and the smooth sweet skin so slow and gently, that Tony didn’t immediately wake. A little deeper, and the blood flowed. His lower fangs were so long that he had to use his tongue to catch it while they were slicing in, barely more than a quarter of an inch.

His hackles had begun to rise moments before as the scent he’d been ignoring along with the mechanized voice was translated by the inner beast as a threat. When a high-pitched scream broke out as the door opened, Victor froze to avoid rending teeth through flesh. Tony woke with a start and Victor held him still until he could safely pull his fangs free.

The blood welled and began to spill. With a hostile growl, he brought his lips down to cover the punctures. The taste of it entered his mouth and the beast within began to suckle and drink greedily from the precious fount.

“Let go, get away!”

“Pepper, stop!” Tony cried out, holding up a palm to halt her intention to strike with a small decorative pillow she had found on the floor. “I asked him to,” he told her. “Now let’s not have an accident, okay?”

Glaring at her, Victor growled again. He wouldn’t have hurt her but with instinct shrieking at him to defend the mate, it was hard to stop. The blood in his mouth and coating his throat helped to calm him, the suckling a mesmerizing comfort.

“Tony, oh my God…”

“It’s okay, I swear. We’re all consenting adults, here.”

“He’s drinking your… Oh, I feel dizzy…”

“Can we, maybe, have a minute?”

“I’m not leaving you alone! Tony, what is this?”

“Um… You may need to be more specific.”

“Would you please ask … him … to stop doing that?”

“Growling?”

“Biting and … drinking you.”

“At the moment, he’s stopping the bleeding; I’d rather not interrupt that. I know I keep forgetting to lock doors but really, there are advantages to knocking anyway, am I right? Am I late for something? I thought I had the weekend off.”

Victor licked at the wounds and when they stopped bleeding, he moved back and sat in a slouch with legs crossed and pulled the sheet into his lap. He wanted to pull Tony into him the moment the man sat up but resisted the urge. He wasn’t his to lay claim to.

Trying to calm and managing to stop growling, he stared at the woman in the charcoal suit through his messy hair from behind Tony.

“Mornin’, darlin’,” he greeted her at last. “How’s yer car?”

“Wow. Okay,” Tony muttered. He huffed out a breath. “Pepper Potts, this is Victor Creed. Victor, Pepper… Why are we talking about your car?”

“We met last night; he stopped a drunk driver from crashing me off a bridge. I had no idea…!” She caught herself before her voice got too shrill and by the look of her, it was a struggle to regain some control. “Tony, I had … no idea.”

“Oh. Um… Pepper? I like guys, too. I know, my little black book may as well be the U.S. Census, I’m sorry I never told you... What?” he said to her raised eyebrow, crossed arms, and tapping foot.

Victor leaned in and kissed the fresh bite. “That’s tha face o’ a woman who already guessed that, flyboy.” Looking up at her, he added, “I should go – but I got no idea how t’ get my clothes outta that _Matrix_ garage without makin’ a mess.”

“Stay right here,” Tony told him. “Pepper, would you please bring me my robe, behind you on the chair? Then we can go talk. Thanks,” he said when she tossed it near him onto the bed.

She dropped the pillow and went back to the door. “I’ll be in the living room. My car is in the shop – thanks again … Mr. Creed.” She huffed out a breath and left, her heels clicking fast on the stairs.

Tony turned back to Victor. “Yikes – ‘Red Alert’ in the flesh. Sorry about that. No leaving, okay?”

Victor shrugged. “Where’s tha john in this bloody UFO?”

“That way, around the curve. You saved her last night?”

“She’d probly tell it better.”

Before he could get up, Tony scooted closer and kissed him. “Really sorry and thank you, I owe you big time – again. I can’t function without her. So you’re staying, right?”

“Long as yer holdin’ my clothes, phone, an’ rifle hostage, yeah.”

“Excellent. You won’t need clothes much if I get my way.” Tony kissed him again, with heat. “Even with the Defcon Two interruption, waking up to your bite was delicious – and I hope I was.” Tony winked at him. “Damage control calls … I’ll be right back.”

When he left the room, hurriedly tying the robe closed, Victor got up and went to the open door. He had no trouble hearing them as Pepper told him about the bridge and Tony freaked out over it.

“Hey, house – do ya talk t’ anybody ‘sides ‘im?”

“I do,” the odd British voice replied.

It was hard to tell where it was coming from, even for his ears. It seemed to be coming from everywhere at once.

 _Damn thing’s probly in tha ceilin’ an’ walls but from several spots…_ “So are ya allowed t’ talk t’ me?”

“I have no specific instructions regarding you, other than your current status of ‘guest’. Regular guest protocols are currently active.”

“Yeah … right – whatever. Can ya tell me how t’ spring my clothes outta tha basement?”

“Guests are not authorized to enter the workshop without express permission from Mr. Stark, preferably not without him present.”

Victor growled. “Natch. It’s been stimulatin’, Skynet – now fuck off.” He stalked away to find the john.

*****************************************************************

“You asked to be woken up this morning as of yesterday afternoon. ‘Barge in if you have to’ is a direct quote.”

Tony got as far as the coffee table, got distracted by wishing he had a mug of coffee sitting on it, and then dragged his attention back to Pepper before she could start to glare at him.

“Okay. Sorry for shocking you near to death and I’m sorry about the bridge mess, too.”

“Why was he biting you?”

“I asked him to?”

“Why?”

“It’s … sexy.”

“I don’t know what to say to that, so I’ll just tell you that I was going to ask if you could spare me for the weekend. The meeting you ditched in San Francisco went great but I had way too much excitement on my scenic leisurely drive home, so I’d like to take a couple of days…?”

“Oh, sure – no problem.”

“You’ll be okay? Tony, he looks very dangerous and JARVIS said he’s a wanted felon.”

Tony sighed. “Remember last fall when I was in the Arctic Circle with a friend and I wouldn’t tell you much about it?”

“Vividly.”

“That was Victor. He saved my life – twice. I’ll tell you all about it later. We had a little trench-bonding and well…” His shoulders slumped a fraction. “Did you really already know? About … me and … guys?”

Pepper gave him a tight tiny smile. “Of course I know. You don’t like skiing all that much. After the third ‘ski trip’ with the latest male underwear model from Brazil or France, I had it figured out; it’s perfectly fine.”

“Okay.” Tony sat on the tan leather couch and slumped low. _I want a shower … and coffee – maybe a shower of coffee…_ “I should’ve just told you.”

“That would have been nice.”

Rubbing at his facial hair, he frowned. “What did you mean by ‘had no idea’ then?”

Pepper looked uncomfortable and began to pace in front of the coffee table. “I didn’t want to pry; it’s your business…”

“Not wanting to is an important distinction, I imagine…” He arched an eyebrow at her. “When you looked Victor up, I suppose JARVIS mentioned he was in the workshop with me?”

“Yes, and after the bridge incident, I was very concerned.”

“I can’t blame you for that. I was pretty concerned when I met him for the first time.”

“Well, aside from not being anything like a Brazilian underwear model, Creed just reeks ‘sociopath’. He’s a mercenary assassin and a former member – I hope ‘former’ – of a grab bag of organizations and groups that should be in prison. Also, he was an operative for the CIA during the Cold War. I don’t even want to know why he doesn’t have gray hair. I had no idea that you would – go with – an internationally wanted criminal accused of such hideous crimes. I know you can get a little myopic in the pursuit of that sort of thing but have you even considered that he could have been paid to steal secrets from you? He might have saved me to get in good with you for exactly that reason.”

“Ah, no, to that last bit – he brought me one of Hydra’s developmental secret weapons, a very black market pricey one, just because I said I wanted it. They shot me down with it and he saved me, the first time, while hired to capture it. I’ve been forgetting to call him back about delivery arrangements for months, so he brought it out anyway. He could have sold it to the highest bidder instead, which would have made a huge problem for everybody, but he didn’t.”

“Tony, if this is one of your fleeting obsessions, it’s a dangerous one. Maybe the CIA is technically ‘our side’ but he was on a wet works team – and the picture I found? Forget gray hair – he doesn’t look even one day older.”

“I wouldn’t get too excited over the Cold War thing – he also fought in every major conflict of the last century, starting with World War I. The healing talent is why no gray hair. Did you spend half the night in the library getting JARVIS to help you research him?”

“I was waiting for you to come up and talk to me, JARVIS told you that.”

Tony laid his head back against the couch. “About the crash and you were freaked and I blew off the message… Wow. Really, really, sorry. Why didn’t you come down?”

“Because you had ‘company’.”

“JARVIS, I may have to muzzle you on some topics – and don’t interrupt! Pepper, if you’ve just been through hell and you need me – you can tell me that. I’d have come up to see you. Listen, jumping in to save people here and there appears to be a character flaw of this particular sociopath. He didn’t do it to bamboozle me for stealing secrets – he didn’t even tell me it happened. Possibly he was motivated by not wanting me to go upstairs – but still.”

“You already knew about the rest – being a hired killer, a mercenary specializing in infiltrating ‘impossible to breach’ security systems … espionage, terrorism…”

“Yes … I did.”

She stopped pacing and faced him with an incredulous expression on her pretty but worried face. “Why would you bring someone like that into your house?”

“Did I mention trench-bonding? We destroyed a Hydra research base together – two against hundreds, guns and repulsors blazing, it was seriously epic. I wanted to wrap him up in an American flag – except that he’s pretty stuck on being Canadian… Now I’m spoiling the story for you.”

“Your Brazilian wasn’t a vampire and the one time I did meet him, he didn’t growl at me.”

“No, but he also wouldn’t have jumped between two cars to save you – and tossing 3,500 pounds of Impala off a cliff isn’t usually typed up on the back of a headshot photo under ‘hobbies’…” Tony crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at her. “And Torres isn’t mine, technically – I just rent him. I found him in the ‘cute but vapid’ aisle, it was an impulse acquisition, really.” _There goes the glare… Oops. That was supposed to be funny. Crap._

“Don’t change the subject. The way you looked and the drinking your neck – I thought he had killed you!”

He tried to remain serious but the smile wouldn’t stay down. “I loved your plan to avenge me with a decorative pillow.”

When her shoulders slumped a little, he dared to hope her need to rant might be satisfied.

 _‘Kid gloves for the redheads’, as dad always used to say…_ “So … considering enthusiastic consent, saving me twice, and the fact that you didn’t go over a bridge last night because of him… What do you think, besides ‘sociopath and felon’?”

“Tony… I’ve seen him crushed between two cars and heal himself in a few minutes. He picked up my car and threw another one off a cliff in a rage. He carries a sniper rifle as if it was a part of him and I saw him attack you like a furry Dracula. I may need a spa weekend before I can safely form an opinion about him.”

“Fair enough – they all take your company card.” He tried a you-can’t-stay-mad-at-me smile and got a grudging one in return.

“Is he a danger to you? Or are you safe? I can stay...”

“Standing around holding little pillows all day? No, I’m safe, I swear. He wouldn’t hurt me. He’s a fanboy.”

“I bet if I asked Rhodey or Coulson, I’d get a very different assessment.”

“Let’s not, though. I’d like a quiet weekend.”

“You know Happy would blow a fuse and die from worry – faster than I am.”

“Ah, yeah, about that – could you pass on that I’m staying home and give him the weekend off, too? Maybe without mentioning who is keeping me company?”

Pepper sighed. “Okay, I will – if you promise to be safe. That is a frightening person. I mean, he was kind to me and saved me but… Just please be careful.”

“You got it.”

When she left in a company car, he got up and headed back to his bedroom. Victor was standing nude at the window again, in the warm morning sun.

Tony thought about all that Pepper had said as well as what he’d discovered in the files INTERPOL and SHIELD had on the mutant and what he had seen Victor do in person. Hank McCoy’s assessment and things Ryu Obinata had said also weighed on him. He knew he should keep it all on a back burner somewhere but he didn’t want to worry about being on opposite sides of the moral fence right now.

 _This is a bedroom – not a boardroom or a battlefield._ “Last night makes a convincing argument on the value of being able to remember what we did when I wake up.”

He had thought the mutant was looking at the ocean, until he lifted a hand and touched one of the displays about surfing conditions on the window – thankfully with the claws put away.

“Do you surf?”

“Nope. What is all this?”

“I don’t like having to check a computer to get my weather report, so I programmed the computer to just tell me.”

“Yer creepy disembodied voice makes this? It could just tell ya like it did earlier. It ain’t a projection from anywhere I can tell – how’d ya get it on tha window?”

“If you think that’s a neat trick, the workshop toys are going to blow your mind.”

When Victor touched the international display command and the readout spread over the window in front of his face, he twitched, growled, and swiped his fingers at it.

Tony chuckled. “My kingdom for a laser pointer.”

Coming up behind him, he brushed the long hair aside and caressed the large body on the way to wrapping his arms around him.

“Do you really want me to explain how the window works? I’d rather drag you back to bed.”

“Is yer attack assistant fetchin’ more pillows t’ threaten me with?”

“She left for a spa weekend – I’m adept at damage control.”

“Probly from all tha practice.”

Victor pulled him in front of him, back against his barrel chest. Slowly, he peeled him out of the robe and tossed it aside on the floor. The way he drank in the sight of his body gave Tony a rush. Remembering the electric sexual rage the feral had displayed in New York City made his dick hard in no time.

Thick and potentially lethal fingertips explored the arc reactor while the mutant watched the reflection of his sun-dappled body through the display readout about rain in Paris.

“Almost mailed yer gadget an’ went home.”

“Worth your weight in stamps?” he teased, leaning back into him.

“Ya ever look at those months-old texts?”

“I did – I get … distracted.” Tony looked up at their reflections again and saw Victor watching him – assessing him, maybe. “I’m challenged in the replying area; you really shouldn’t take it personally.”

“Takes two seconds t’ respond, so maybe it’s a lack o’ basic want t’. It’s obvs yer Number One don’t like me much – yer house don’t, neither. Gotta say, never had t’ worry ‘bout what a damn house thought o’ me before. Point bein’, if ya’d rather I leave, lemme know.”

“I’m the guy trying to lure you back into bed. Victor, I’m not sure what you’re thinking but this isn’t about owing you one … or three… What we went through in the Arctic, Halloween, New York – it changed my assessment of you. I brought you into my home because I want to share some time – mostly horizontal time, but I’m betting you won’t mind that. To be honest, this isn’t what I normally do, as you know – but I just cleared from now to Monday morning and I’d like it if you stayed until then. No staff will be onsite, the housekeeping crew is only here mid-week; I have one daily cleaning lady, she mostly washes dishes, and she keeps out of my way. The only other person we might see is the cook but honestly, I order in a lot. I like my privacy.”

Victor lowered his head to nuzzle Tony’s hair. “Yer cute in babble mode... I’ll need my phone later; I actually do check an’ answer my texts. If I ain’t allowed t’ waltz in there an’ get my stuff, I’d rather it was in here.”

“Sure. I always let my friends with benefits keep their high-powered sniper rifles in my bedroom; I just haven’t mounted the guest gunrack in here yet.”

Grinning, Victor grabbed and tossed him onto the bed. He couldn’t help laughing by the time he landed.

When the mutant put a knee down next to him, Tony grasped the thick cock and squeezed, chuckling as it sparked that velvet purr.

“Maybe next time,” Victor responded with a smirk.

“I’m glad you popped up, even if you did shoot my house.”

“If only I’d known how annoyin’ it was gonna be. Woulda shot it twice.”

The sexy growl was thrummed close over Tony’s skin down his torso. It made him shiver with lust as Victor moved down to lick at his pubic hair, lapping teasingly at the base of his cock.

“Love tha taste o’ yer sex...”

Tony groaned. “I’m not even sure what that means, but God I love how dirty it sounds.”

“Mmm... Gonna be my bitch?”

Tony let out a bark of a laugh as he remembered one of their phone calls. “That’s right, you like a bit of dirty talk. Did the mud puddles and sweaty gym socks get you anywhere?”

Victor chuckled. Their eyes met and Tony smiled to see his sheepish yet amused expression.

“Kept ya talkin’ awhile ‘bout yer tech fer tha Memory Image Inducer just so I could try t’ jack off without ya knowin’ it.”

“I assumed you were eager to get back to the woman you thought I was. How did it go?”

“With tha woman?” Victor smirked.

“No, with jacking off to my oh-so-hot pugnacious tech talk loaded with odium.”

The cat eyes widened and then narrowed. “Yer which loaded with what-tha-fuck?”

“Sorry, couldn’t resist poking you – I was more grumpy and annoyed than alluring on that call.”

“Oh... Don’t matter none. Ya hung up on me too fast – had t’ fall back on tha porn collection.”

“It should matter, actually. I didn’t know what I was missing then, however. Have you used the MII to see me?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?” Tony found the lube and tossed it to him.

“Still tryin’ t’ land ya – hope springs eternal. Maybe after ya drop me fer tha next skivvies model, might could give that a whirl.”

“What is a skivvy? Underwear, obviously, but what a word.”

Tony didn’t mind that Victor didn’t reply. He was fine with that rasp of a tongue stroking up the underside of his cock. Still, there were other things crowding into his thoughts at once and he wanted all of them. He reached down and grabbed a fist-full of blonde curling hair and tugged to make Victor look at him.

“Fuck me,” he invited, hoping that his companion would like the raunchy melodramatically dirty tone, even if he felt a bit silly saying it. “Lick me open and fuck me. I want to be your bitch.”

Victor smirked again and fell into a soft laughter that was so weirdly charming that Tony didn’t even mind being laughed at.

“Flip it. Ain’t a sub bone in yer body, flyboy. Call me yer cunt – order me t’ service ya.”

“Of course you love the C-word.”

“Natch.”

“Shut up, cunt,” Tony replied, turning his voice into the crack of a whip. “I told you to fuck me.”

“Ooo ... yeah. Time t’ change tha game...”

He wasn’t prepared for Victor to flip him onto his stomach with a simple grab and twist of his hips. One huge paw was stuffed under him until the whole set was parked on the hot skin of the palm. When slicked fingers and winding tongue began to fight to get into his ass with an urgency that nearly felt frantic, his hips thrust against the hand – almost involuntarily.

“There ya go, pretty boy. Thrust that thing – its got nowhere t’ go an’ all mornin’ t’ get there. Earn my cock.”

“God, Victor...”

His brain swam with lust. The hand stuffed under him was pressing up, giving him no room to find some friction. Relentless and skilled, just this side of frighteningly out of control, Victor worked him open. It set his body on fire.

Three fingers finally began to push inside. When they were stuffed in, Tony gasped at how quickly they left him empty again – and then came the long and winding tongue, strong enough on its own to thrust in and fuck him.

“Do you want me to beg?” he asked in a strangled whisper, knowing he wouldn’t be answered. The undulating of the wet and rough tongue inside him felt both creepily weird and hot as hell at once – like being screwed by some alien plant. _I want more, I need more…_ “I want the claws...” The memory of them burned.

He was surprised when he didn’t feel them. Tongue-fucked and unable to thrust, he tried to escape just to see what the feral would do.

A weight, a pressure, settled on his lower back. Light as a tickle, he felt the claws poise right over his flesh.

“Yes,” he gulped out. “Make me. I want it – I want it...”

It all stopped at once and he could barely breathe. He closed his eyes tight as the hands left him.

Weight shifted. The first nudge of that broad cockhead was close to frightening but he needed it so much, he couldn’t care.

“Want it, bitch?”

“God, yes.”

“Gonna fuck ya blind, now.”

It pushed in deep all at once. It felt too stretched, it hurt, he needed it to stop – then he shoved away the fear, an act that was part of the excitement, and forced his body to relax and allow the brutally delicious thrusts.

“Bite,” he gasped out. When Victor hesitated, he growled his own threat. “Bite me, you fucking cunt!”

*****************************************************************

The ferocity lanced right through his balls and hauled fangs to that throat far too fast.

Forcing a deep breath into his lungs, he dropped his jaw and set Tony’s whole neck in his mouth just long enough for him to feel the serrated pin-pricks of the carnassial teeth. Pulling it back, he pinched either side of the spine carefully in his fangs and fucked through the shudders of the body under him as Tony managed to come half-buried in bedding and soft mattress.

Victor continued to play with angles to stike against or rub over the man’s prostate as he came, waiting until Tony was limp and trembling. When he released his spine, he grinned down at his conquered lover.

“Gonna come now, gonna fill ya ‘til yer drippin’. Then I’m plannin’ t’ leave ya sticky – just like a good li’l bitch.”

Tony gave him a whisper of a broken moan, the scent of the man’s heat thick enough to catch on his barbed tongue.

The moment he filled that beautiful body with his seed, he forgot to breathe.

~ ~ ~

Victor lay still, afraid that if he moved, his lover might stop leaning against him like he actually wanted to be there.

“Wow ... I feel drunk.”

“How ya like ‘em naughty words now?”

“I concede – in bed, nowhere near anyone else ... they can be hot. So just curious, why the switch in theme? I thought you were chasing having me boss you. Mind you, that – animalistic aggression thing, whatever that is – just ... fries my circuits. Clearly. How do you keep at it while not snapping my head off, literally? And how wide can you open your mouth, anyway? It’s all a bit surprising because normally I’m not a fan of not being in control.”

“I noticed. Which one o’ ‘em questions ya want answered tha most?”

“The theme switch one.”

“Thought ya’d respond nicely t’ takin’ tha reins an’ then havin’ ‘em taken away from ya.”

“Good call. You cheat, though – you can smell that I’m into it.”

“Ain’t always much advantage with ya.”

“Why not?”

“Dunno – maybe cuz o’ yer speedy brains. Pretty quick on tha draw with emotions, too.”

“I’m often called ‘mercurial’ but I suspect it isn’t always meant as a compliment.”

Victor smiled but Tony couldn’t see it. He fell into listening to the soft sound of the thing in his chest as sleep tugged at his unraveling thoughts.

Yawning, Tony moved off him to lie at his side. “You said you haven’t gotten much sleep lately – I vote nap.”

“Sounds good,” he replied, but Tony was already out.

Victor watched the man sleep beside him a while before cuddling in closer to grab a nap. One finger tapped and stroked over the surface of the endlessly spinning arc reactor. When it fell still to rest on it and the sweet scent of his lover infused his every breath, he could find the courage again to sleep in the warm and soft morning sun, curled up around him.

*****************************************************************

Tony woke and saw the feral sleeping on his belly next to him. Remaining as still as he could, he was amazed to see the expressive face relaxed and smooth in sleep. One hand was still on the arc reactor, a tiny glint of metal needles gleaming in every fingertip, too short to extend past the smooth skin. One lower fang had nearly stabbed into a pillow. His breathing was deep and even; Tony had never heard him snore.

He sank into the mattress more, a fact that made Tony smile. Impulsively, he moved his hand to touch the longer fur that ran down the top of the spine. It was soft and laying flat like the rest until he stroked a fingertip from the top to where it ended mid-back. As if he’d disturbed it, it began to rise slightly. The similar fur strip that started again at the lower back and went right over the tailbone remained flat.

_Piloerection, like Hank’s report said – that’s how it hackles up, caused by the sympathetic nervous system, and something making the muscles contract. It’s an involuntary reaction triggered by cold to retain body heat or by shock, insecurity, defensiveness, aggression or fright – even by arousal. Geez, I wonder how they tested for that one._

Tony glanced back at his face and twitched when he saw the soft and searching amber stare under heavy eyelids. The eyelashes were dark, thick, and long enough to make most women jealous. The pupils were almost round before they began to contract into pointed ovals.

“Morning … again – without any screaming this time, bonus. Roll onto your back for me, honey?” He didn’t ask why, he just complied and went on watching him silently. Tony took in the sculpted muscles with a smile of appreciation. “You have a beautiful, powerful body. May I?” he asked, a hand poised over him. It was maybe a needless question after the purr started up.

Victor nodded, still silent. Tony sat up, scooted closer, and ran his hands over soft fur and skin that covered hard muscle. He left the little circular scars he’d found before alone this time.

“Cat got your tongue?” The slow spread of the lips to reveal that sharp smile made Tony smirk.

“Keep callin’ me pretty an’ I’ll probly let ya fuck me.”

“Later, definitely – I want a shower.”

“What fer? We’re just gonna get all dirty again. Maybe we oughta spend tha whole weekend in bed.”

Tony smiled as he stroked the backs of his fingers over Victor’s amazing abs. “I can think of one good reason to get out of bed – you appear to be hungry. I may actually be hungry. I shall be gallant and offer to cook for you, since the official cook may not be here this late.”

“What time is it? Ain’t gotta clock anywhere.”

Holding his gaze, he called out, “JARVIS, what time is it?”

“Just after one o’clock, sir. Miss Pots told the cook to take the day off.”

“Thanks,” he replied, and winked at Victor.

“Bloody annoyin’,” the feral groused. “Does it watch us fuck? I never mind an audience, I’m good ‘nuff at it t’ deserve one. Kiss me.”

“Shower first.”

“Princess.”

“That’s me.” Tony rose and walked backward to lure him out of bed. “If you’re good, I may let you kiss me in the shower.”

“Yeah? Where?”

Laughing, Tony turned and led the way, fascinated all over again that he couldn’t hear it as Victor followed him.

Somehow, they managed to get clean surrounded by the multiple jets of hot water – eventually. Victor’s hair took the most time but watching the wet spray rush and bead over that body was a treat while he scrubbed it and the rest of the fur clean.

They ended up kissing and touching a lot. It was addicting how passionately the mutant kissed and Tony was getting good at avoiding the sharp bits.

“Have you ever heard the saying, ‘Save water, shower with a friend’? We are going to be the cause of California’s next drought.”

Victor purred, leaned down, and licked his throat. “Need yer dick in me…”

Tony looked up at him. “Standing-up sex is going to be a challenge with you clocking in at nine inches taller than me.”

Wasting no time, the mutant went to his knees and bent over, forehead down on the wet floor of the large marble and glass-walled shower stall.

“Damn, you are … something else.” Tony’s hands grabbed the hips as he stared at the fingers he could see, splayed and growing claws over the white and gray-veined marble. “Ah, let’s play a game called ‘the shower and bathroom is made of imported Calacatta marble from Italy, please don’t kill it’, okay?”

He pressed his thumb against the soft golden fur around that amazing little muscle and toyed with not breaching it until Victor shuddered, growled, and finally groaned. Moving the thumb, one hand spread the asscheeks as the other gripped his cock. Pushing it in made him gasp.

As he began to thrust, he watched the brush of hackles along the spine rise. “Victor, shield your head, I may need to … oh, man…” He closed his eyes and shoved in roughly, but then opened them again at the sound of the palm slapping the stone. The gleam of claws had disappeared.

“Fuck me … harder… Need it,” the mutant murmured between sharp breaths.

Tony gripped the hips hard enough to bruise anyone else and made sure his feet wouldn’t slip. The hiss from the feral when he thrust in harder nearly made him come far too fast.

Grinning, he told him, “Keep still, bitch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhodey and Coulson are of course Lt. Colonel James Rhodes and SHIELD Agent Phil Coulson. At this point, Pepper isn’t yet calling Coulson by his first name. "The Matrix" is that movie with Keanu Reeves as Neo, and Skynet is the genocide-happy AI computer from the movie "Terminator". The chapter title "Stranger in a Strange Land" is a nod to the book of the same title by Robert A. Heinlein. Tony and Victor are learning how to grok each other. LOL. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic)


	3. Draggin' the Line

Makin’ a livin’ the old, hard way  
Takin’ and givin’ my day by day  
I dig snow and rain and the bright sunshine  
Draggin’ the line (Draggin’ the line)

My dog Sam eats purple flowers  
Ain’t got much, but what we got’s ours  
We dig snow and rain and the bright sunshine  
Draggin’ the line (Draggin’ the line)  
Draggin’ the line (Draggin’ the line)

I feel fine  
I’m talkin’ ‘bout peace of mind  
I’m gonna take my time  
I’m gettin’ the good sign  
Draggin’ the line (Draggin’ the line)  
Draggin’ the line (Draggin’ the line)

Lovin’ the free and feelin’ spirit  
of hugging a tree, when you get near it  
Diggin’ the snow and rain and the bright sunshine  
Draggin’ the line (Draggin’ the line)  
Draggin’ the line (Draggin’ the line)

I feel fine  
I’m talkin’ ‘bout peace of mind  
I’m gonna take my time  
I’m gettin’ the good sign  
Draggin’ the line (Draggin’ the line)  
Draggin’ the line (Draggin’ the line)

Draggin’ the line (Draggin’ the line) (La-la la-la la-la la-la)  
Draggin’ the line (Draggin’ the line) (La-la la-la la-la la)

~ Draggin’ the Line (Tommy James)

*****************************************************************

“Clearly, I don’t own enough towels,” Tony observed. “So all that hair is a thing, huh?”

“Lotta cultures ‘round tha globe believe long hair gives a body power: strengthens intuition, increases vitality – even boosts sexual energy.”

“You do seem to have a surplus of all of that, but I’d have attributed it to a mutation and a healing factor.”

“Those ain’t two separate things in me, ya know.” He rubbed another of Tony’s white thick towels into his golden mane and then rolled the wet mass up in it to drape it over his shoulders. “Genghis Khan used t’ cut tha hair o’ people he conquered t’ humiliate an’ weaken ‘em.”

“What a guy. Please tell me you didn’t know him personally.”

Victor snorted, nearly purring to have Tony relaxed enough to tease him. “An old boss told me hair conducts energy int’ tha body – somethin’ ‘bout coilin’ it up makin’ it stronger. Then he lost me talkin’ ‘bout coiled antenna wire in AM radios or some shit.”

“Induction – causes any conductor of electromagnetic energy to induce a current in adjacent conductors: the hair viewed as a mass of antennae. Coiling the antenna wire in the radio makes the signal stronger. Okay, I can buy that. I’m not going to go for the hippie look, though – I’d have to redesign my helmet.”

“Dunno what yer sayin’ sometimes, but like t’ hear ya do that.”

“Do what?”

“Be smart.” Victor watched from behind him as he stood at the sink to clean up his sculpted facial hair. Managing not to touch him, he growled appreciatively. “It’s sexy.”

Finishing up, Tony held the trimmer and turned to face him. “Let me do yours.”

“Been doin’ mine all night an’ most o’ tha mornin’.”

“Funny.” Tony reached up to scratch a blunt fingernail at the stubble on his chin. “This stuff is about the only hair on you that scrapes me in bed – let’s fix that.” He pulled a stool over from the corner of the huge marble bathroom. “Sit.”

Victor sat. It was hard to cope for a minute, instinct twitching, as Tony moved up closer and set his free hand under his jaw to hold him still. He endured the trim around his mutton chop sideburns and chin as quietly as he could, ears pinned against the buzzing of the tools.

“There, much better. The cleft is a challenge.”

Tony laid a finger in the cleft of his chin and smiled at how smooth it was after his efforts with electric shaver and trimmer.

“Won’t last long,” Victor muttered as he leaned in for a kiss. Tony’s hand on the side of his throat made him purr. “Usually use a straight razor t’ keep it down fer a day or two.”

“I’ve never dated a yeti before.”

“Are we havin’ breakfast in our towels?”

“Hmm, I guess you didn’t pack for a weekend. I think I have a fix for that. Wait here.”

“After seein’ yer collection o’ wrapped new toothbrushes fer ‘guests’ in yer bathroom, I’m guessin’ they don’t all get abandoned fer Pepper t’ eject.”

“Not all of them,” Tony admitted, and winked at him. “I’ll be right back.”

Victor watched him go, wishing he had his phone. He didn’t have any ‘Tony in a towel’ photos.

He attacked his hair again with the towel from around his hips and then braided the mop still slightly damp. Glancing around, he chuckled when he spied a bottle of Bvlgari Black in the cologne collection.

 _I hate bein’ right all tha time._ Amused, he picked up one of the man’s fancier colognes, the one Tony had used a moment ago, and slapped some on. _Amouage’s Dia pour Homme: woody, citrus, musky … incense an’ bitter orange among tha top notes, plum an’ orris root in tha mix fer tha middle, through some bottom notes o’ leather, amber, Brazilian rosewood… Nice._

Restless when left alone, he abandoned the devastated towel casualties and wandered back into the bedroom nude, drawn to the window again. He would have gone out to the balcony but even though the door was obvious enough, a gentle tug wouldn’t open it. He didn’t have a clue how to make it work, was afraid of breaking it, and asking the house was too weird.

The Pacific and brilliant blue sky made up the whole world from where he stood. He watched the waves and let the worry about needing to get back to his schedule fade away.

_Enjoy it while it lasts – cuz it won’t._

Hunger tugged at him but it was the lazy variety, not the awful grinding torment of the healing factor demanding fuel to repair his body. It could be safely ignored for now. Sometimes he didn’t need to eat for a few days if he made a large kill prior, but he hadn’t taken as much from Pepper’s drunk driver as he could have.

_If I had my way, we’d never leave ‘is bed ‘til I gotta clear out. Normal folks hafta eat more regular, I guess._

Hunting meat for Tony in the Arctic Circle had been a treat but Malibu didn’t have much of a tradition for that sort of thing.

His ears twitched as he heard his lover returning. Facing the open door, he arched an eyebrow when he saw a pair of red plaid flannel pajama pants over the man’s arm.

Tony smiled at his dubious expression. “Not a plaid guy? They should fit – drawstring. They’re Happy’s – I keep a guest room for him.”

“Or, ya could lemme get t’ my jeans in tha basement.”

“Humor me. If I get you in these, you’re less likely to escape. I’m not done with you yet.”

“Gonna be tight.”

“What a shame.”

Victor snorted and caught them when Tony tossed them at his chest. He didn’t move at first, watching avidly as the inventor ditched his towel for a pair of soft black cotton lounge pants.

As predicted, the plaid was tight on him, the cloth only reaching to mid-calf on his long legs.

“No shirts?” he asked, as Tony headed for the door without one.

“You don’t need one – covering all that up should be a crime. I’m going without in the name of solidarity. Plus, clothes are overrated. I’d be a nudist if it wouldn’t get me arrested at charity events. Come on.”

Grinning, Victor followed him. He was vaguely aware that in that moment, he would have followed him straight into Hell.

*****************************************************************

“This a kitchen or Mission Control?”

Tony chuckled, enjoying the mutant’s expression and body language in spite of his efforts to put him at ease. Standing at a loss in the high-tech kitchen, he looked like a fish on a bicycle.

“Coffee, JARVIS?”

“Tha house drinks java?” Victor scoffed.

“Makes it.” Tony opened the refrigerator and rummaged around as the coffee machine began to make noises behind him. “As I suspected, we don’t have any polar bear. Do you eat eggs? Bacon?”

“Sure…”

Glancing back he saw him baring his teeth at the coffee machine. “Don’t attack it, I need it.”

“Looks like some damn thing from a medical thriller – or maybe like it’s gonna shoot spores or some shit.”

“Speaking of, tell me about things you’re into. You make a lot of baseball references.”

“Yer goin’ from spores t’ baseball?”

“I’m a non sequitur kind of guy.”

Victor set a hip against the wide center island far away from the coffee machine and gripped the edge of the dark granite behind him. The plaid flannel pulled tight across his hips in a glorious tribute to maleness that almost made Tony forget about food entirely as he stood there in the escaping cold from the fridge.

“I like tha Cubs.”

“Chicago, huh? Why them?”

Victor gave him an odd look instead of the coffee machine and abruptly there was an elephant in the room. Tony took a deep breath and resolved not to let it sour his efforts or their time together.

_I don’t want to accuse him about that mess. I want … I want him to learn to trust me, and then I hope he’ll admit it and we can discuss it._

Victor finally shrugged. “Just like ‘em, have fer a long time. Use t’ take a friend t’ see tha home games when she was li’l; it was fun. So much changes ‘round me … even though tha players come an’ go, tha team stays. They’re ‘sposed t’ have a shot at doin’ pretty good this year – were runners-up last year.”

“Good. I, ah, don’t really follow it – or any sports…”

“Are ya hopin’ it’ll snow?”

“What?”

“Standin’ there with tha fridge door wide open – do ya even know how t’ cook?”

“Not really,” he admitted. “I just thought I might take a crack at it. Ah … do you? Besides seal fillets in a tent?”

“Move.”

Tony went to lean against the counter by the coffee machine and watched in fascination as Victor found things by scent, including an iron skillet, and started cooking their breakfast.

“So you’re the sort of guy who takes a kid to a baseball game. Cool. Do you still do that?”

“She ain’t been that kid in a shit-ton o’ years but sometimes we catch a game if I’m in town.”

“Was this … your daughter?”

“Nope. Sorta helped raise ‘er, though – here an’ there.” He turned to face him with two eggs in one hand. “Gotta druther?”

“Sorry, a what?”

“Fried, scrambled – don’t make no diff’rence t’ me.”

“Oh. Whatever is easiest.”

Victor smirked. “If ya like ‘em any which way, I can do it that way.”

“If you insist: sunny side up with a dash of lemongrass sprinkled on top.”

“Yer serious? Grass?”

Tony chuckled and fetched some from the fridge for him. “Lemongrass. It’s good.”

“More fer ya.”

“How does a fellow with your, ah, tastes, end up knowing how to make eggs any way there is?”

“Tryin’ t’ impress somethin’ pretty that was worth it in tha sack.”

He winked at him and Tony laughed.

“What gave me away?”

“A billionaire oughta know he can get somethin’ catered on tha cook’s day off.”

“Well, the least I can do is feed the cook some coffee. How do you take it?”

“More sugar than ya probly got.”

“Learn something new every minute.” Tony had offered pointers on how to operate the ‘space stove’ as Victor dubbed it but otherwise, all he had to do was drink his black coffee and watch a feral assassin make breakfast for him. “You need one of those ‘kiss the cook’ aprons.”

“Grab plates, this ain’t gonna take long. Ya care if we kill all o’ tha bacon?”

“No, make however much you want to eat; I only like a little of it.”

Tony wished he had a photo of the face Victor made when he tossed lemongrass over eggs and handed him the plate. He had cooked quite a few eggs and scrambled the rest with gusto. Apparently, he planned to eat them with a spoon.

They sat on the black stools at the island across one corner from each other.

“Ya could land a plane in here.”

“Is that weird?”

“Naw, I like a lotta space.”

“Our pile of bacon is in danger of being conquered by Spain. I’m going to rescue maybe four of them, so the rest are all yours.”

“Works fer me. Don’t eat much, do ya?”

“Needing to eat is something I wish I could fix, except for New York pizza. Nothing against food and this is delicious, but … I like doing what I do and having to stop to eat, well, stops me. If I could live on coffee and scotch, life would be simpler and I’d get more done.”

“Guess I never thought ‘bout it much. I prefer t’ hunt.” He saw Tony watching him and looked away. “Healin’ factor don’t work if I don’t eat.”

“It’s okay, I want to know about you – get to know you, I mean.”

“What fer?”

“I just do. Being amazing in bed – and in the shower – is probably not your only talent.”

“Ya don’t like my other talents none.”

“I do, some of them. You shoot down a mean enemy plane, for one thing, and you’re quite skilled at saving my ass.”

Victor smirked. “Just savin’ it fer myself.”

“A valid reason.” He munched on a piece of bacon as Victor finished his eggs and began to eat bacon by the handful. “Why a spoon?”

“Easier’n usin’ fingers on eggs. Me an’ forks don’t get along that good. Rather use claws.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“I save messin’ with utensils fer when I gotta pretend I’m civilized – ya already know better.”

Wiping his fingers off on his napkin, Tony drank more coffee. “We have two days, not to mention two nights, until Monday morning. We need to fetch the pulse device before then, at some point. I should also warn you that even though I have the weekend off, a mission may come up, it happens a lot, and being ‘off’ doesn’t mean I don’t have some work to do. It mostly means I get a break from routine and I don’t have to do any press, meetings, whatever.”

“Why tell me all that? If’n ya need t’ work, I’ll bring ya tha tech an’ get outta yer hair.”

“I’m telling you because I want you to stay until then – I’m just letting you know what may be involved. It’s polite. More coffee?”

When he nodded, Tony got up and took their mugs to the carafe the open doors of the coffee machine had revealed.

“We need to be able to talk to each other.”

Victor snorted as he worked on slaying the platter of bacon. “Ya need t’ learn how t’ answer yer phone.”

“I do. I’m a workaholic. I meant now, though – face to face. If there is anything you want to say or share – or whatever … you can. People who want to spend a weekend in bed together should still be able to talk to each other.”

“Lotta buzz in media on how ya play tha ‘fuck ‘em an’ drop ‘em’ game; ya even told me in tha tent that was yer thing – gettin’ some an’ gettin’ gone. So why ya wanna do all this talkin’ now?”

Tony sighed as he brought the mugs back and sat down. “Here’s the deal. We both know you have … issues. Truth is, I have a pack of them all my own. Not talking about things got us into avoidable trouble before. I had no idea you were a switch in bed and I lied about wanting you that way in the interest of self-preservation. You took it as some sort of rejection – like my need to take a break before we broke my ass. I just think it would help.”

Victor studied him in silence long enough to make him fidget on the stool. “Ain’t gonna talk ‘bout some stuff.”

“That’s okay, I have a few of those, too – but you seem to be a ‘clam up’ type when I’m just trying to understand you. I need to improve also, like calling you back. Will you try?”

Victor watched him, the expression hovering between wary and something Tony couldn’t define. Finally, he nodded. “Ain’t easy…”

“I know, I respect that.” When the mutant got up and started taking the dishes to the sink behind him, Tony glanced over his shoulder. “Just leave them there, Maria will wash up – she comes in at three o’clock.”

Turning to stand by the sink, Victor watched him again. “I get it, why ya wanna talk – yer a chatterbox. I already know yer favorite game is twenty questions.”

“Excellent suggestion, let’s play. Does coffee do anything for you? The caffeine doesn’t affect you?”

“Nope.”

“So why drink it?”

Victor crossed the room, picked up the sugar bowl and poured a good half of it into his mug before sitting again to gulp it.

“Wow,” Tony whispered in awe. “Clearly I did not use enough before.”

“It’s an excuse t’ eat sugar an’ draws less stares than just upendin’ tha bowl int’ my toothy maw. Fer tha java, dunno…” Victor shrugged. “It’s somethin’ men do.”

“What a curious phrase. Where did that come from?”

Victor’s gaze skated away from him as he looked down at the floor. Tony made a mental note that he did that, and variations of the body language of avoidance, whenever his confidence seemed to be pierced or if he thought he’d be judged or rejected. It was different than the angry defensive reaction to the same criteria, but he could never anticipate which type of response he’d get.

_Maybe it has to do with his present perception of where he stands with someone. When he thought I was done with him, and to be fair, he was right, he got hostile – both times. Now we have all weekend and he’s – not relaxed, that’s incorrect – he’s worried or unsure… Why? No clue. Damn._

Victor rose again with his mug to lean against the sink counter. It seemed casual on the surface, yet Tony recognized it instantly as exactly the sort of thing he often did to get space when he felt irritated or overwhelmed – unless he just bailed for the workshop, which afforded him a lot more space.

“Are ya talkin’ t’ yer house?” Victor asked, his tone subdued. “Can it talk in yer head?”

“Not yet.” _He … reminds me of a mistreated pet. Geez. Not cool to think that._ “Sorry, I get distracted easily, remember? Did you want to tell me where you heard that?”

“Old … friend … used t’ say it. He’d say he was gonna teach me ‘somethin’ that men do’. I’m still … tryin’ t’ learn how t’ be a person.”

Tony looked up sharply at that but Victor was glancing away again. He got up, approaching slowly. Setting his coffee down on the counter, he took Victor’s wrist and appropriated the mug, putting it next to his. He claimed both wrists in his fingers, thumbs pressing gently into the impressive raised veins and tendons there. Abruptly, he had the mutant’s full attention.

“You are a person. Why was he teaching you that?”

“Cuz I wasn’t back then.”

“Back when?”

“Early 1880s. Nowadays ya’d call me a kid but shoulda been a grown man – wasn’t, cuz didn’t know nothin’ ‘bout how t’ be that. Spent most o’ my growin’ years chained in a root cellar gettin’ my ‘devil teeth’ an’ claws yanked out.”

“What the hell…?” Tony whispered.

“When I met ‘im, was ‘round fifteen or close ‘nuff. Was sick o’ runnin’ in tha woods, wanted t’ find out what people were like – other people, not bastards like my pa. I started watchin’ settlers, trappers in camps, an’ folks on tha fringes o’ li’l boom towns.”

“You met your friend in a town?”

“Naw, out in tha woods – he was huntin’. Instinct don’t take no learnin’ really, but humans don’t accept a critter like me among ‘em less’n I can pretend t’ be more like ‘em. He started teachin’ me how. He got us work buildin’ a railroad, up int’ tha Yukon. Other people never did accept me, but after a few found out they couldn’t push me ‘round, tha rest quit tryin’.”

“I can imagine.”

“Nowadays, sittin’ at a table at a patio café, wearin’ a suit an’ drinkin’ a cup o’ joe – that let’s ‘em pretend better’n they otherwise could. Calms tha hairs on their arms, tells whatever’s left o’ instinct inside ‘em that maybe I’m civilized ‘nuff t’ be safe. I ain’t – but I … like t’ pretend, too. Sometimes.”

“Well, I can understand that, I don’t always have an easy time around regular people, either. It’s almost impossible to fully be myself because if I am, they don’t understand me ... and I tend to end up offending them sooner or later. Mostly sooner.”

“Ya gotta talk down below yer level t’ be understood.”

“Yes... That – phrase – is something I caught a lot of flak for ... years ago. How do you know about that?”

“Thorough an’ dedicated stalkin’. Plus, I got folks that work fer me who collect mags ya show up in. Celeb trash or science journals, all o’ that.”

“There’s that stalwart work ethic again.”

“Can I get my hands back?”

“I’m not done with them yet. You like sugar – a lot.”

“Got me a sweet tooth, always did.”

Steering him by the wrists, Tony moved him over to the stool that was still pulled out at the center island. Victor sat, watching him warily. Releasing the wrists, Tony cupped the man’s jaw and kissed him, his thumbs stroking the thick but soft mutton chop sideburns.

Tony broke the kiss and smiled down at him. “So which one is the sweet tooth? This one?” He leaned in and licked the front of one of the long upper fangs. “Or this one? Or this?” Victor pressed into the touch on the other upper fang and the longer lower one, putty in his hands as a purr sparked. “I think it’s this one – it’s my favorite and just as long as the other one now.”

He brought his hand up and stroked the fang with his finger. Going in to kiss him again, when the mouth opened, he let his finger slip in to carefully touch the serrated inner curve.

The purr guttered into a low and dangerous growl instantly. Tony didn’t remove his finger but kept it still.

“Is that a warning because you’re worried I’ll hurt you? Or are you worried I’ll end up hurting myself on the sharp bits?” Withdrawing the finger only to rest it on the bottom lip, he whispered, “Tell me.”

“Both.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“Did hurt me.” The amber gaze slid off to the side.

Tony moved his hand. “Victor, tell me.”

“Shot my shoulder out with that infernal steampunk suit – without tha Adamantium, might coulda lost tha arm. Whole mass o’ flesh – fuckin’ vaporized down t’ tha bone in one hit. Ain’t never pickin’ a fight with ya in one o’ those damn suits, tell ya that.”

He twitched when Tony touched that shoulder and then bent to kiss it.

“I’m sorry. I react badly to guns being fired while they’re aimed at my face. I had no idea what was really going on, like you said.”

“Not gonna call in SHIELD on me? Or tha X-freaks?”

“No. I panicked; I never should have said that.”

“Ya meant it, shoulda or not. I know yer kinda buds with ‘em.”

“Not really, although I do get along with Hank McCoy. SHIELD usually just annoys me but they’re a client, sort of – but not for weapons, propulsion toys, mostly. Professor Xavier is a client for home security systems I designed; I told you that on the phone, ages ago.”

Victor snarled at the mere mention of the professor. “Goodie. So next time those shit-stain asswipes collar me, it’ll be yer zappers I gotta fight through t’ get loose. Fun.”

“You’ll be happy to know it doesn’t include repulsors. You hate the X-Men a lot, don’t you?”

“Hate their pink steamin’ worthless guts, though I ain’t personally seen their guts – not all ‘o ‘em … yet.”

“Fresh topic time.” Tony stroked the shoulder affectionately and then straightened. “I want to do something but it isn’t as much fun for either of us if I explain it to you first. Are you willing to trust me – just a little?”

“Told ya – do whatever ya want t’ me.”

“Ah, okay, newer new topic – you need lessons in consent.”

The effect from really close up of the ears pinning, a low warning growl peeling the lips off the teeth, and the feral eyes narrowing to a wary glare could be considered a possible natural substitute for laxatives.

“If’n ya think yer gonna turn me int’ a lap cat just cuz I like playin’ hide-tha-dick with ya – gotta new think headin’ yer way.”

Tony held his hands up within sight but didn’t retreat or react other than raising an eyebrow at him.

“No lap cats, that’s not what I want. You said you were learning how people behave – this is ... something men do. I do, at any rate, plus most men I like to hang out with. Want to play?”

The growl stopped. “I’m listenin’.”

“Here goes... Let me explain first – consent doesn’t only mean that you have to get permission to do things. It also means others have to wait to get your consent to do things to you.”

Victor frowned. “That’s a short list. Near everybody thinks they gotta right t’ do any-damn-thing t’ me: lock me up, experiment on me, pry my head open like tha fuckin’ Sunday funnies, shove molten metal int’ me…”

“Those people were wrong.”

“They were stronger’n me. Law o’ tha jungle.”

“‘Might makes right’ isn’t the law of the land anymore, not for you to exploit or for them to use to hurt you.”

“High an’ mighty speeches ain’t gonna stop ‘em doin’ it, anymore’n it’d stop me. Still meant what I said – don’t care what ya wanna do t’ me. Want ya doin’ stuff, so ain’t gonna whine an’ fuss like a squirrelly bitch ‘bout what ya want.”

“Uh-huh. I need a patience hat. How to explain it better... Think about this for a second – you say I can do anything I want but you growled when I seemed to be about to grab a fang. You admitted it was a warning against hurting you. So, technically, you are setting limits on what I can do – you just don’t want to say so. I’m not going to be put out or toss you out for saying, ‘grabbing my fangs freaks me out, please don’t do that.’”

Slowly, after a hesitant silence, Victor nodded once. “Awright.”

“You can say no anytime and so can I. Now I think you’ll like this, but some things lose a lot of appeal, not to mention spontaneity, if they’re spelled out beforehand. So … can I get a little trust and do this?”

“Yeah…”

“Open your mouth for me a little, honey. I won’t hurt you.”

Careful and quick, he nicked his index finger after the first joint on the serrated edge of his favorite fang. He felt Victor flinch and the mouth closed the second his finger got clear of it. When he pressed the bleeding cut to the lips between the big fangs, the reaction was immediate. His wrist was grasped in long thick fingers as the mouth eagerly sucked and licked at the blood.

Tony watched him, a little fascinated, as the sucking turned to the sort of licking he did to stop the bleeding. When he got his finger back, he smiled down at the mutant. “Not so bad, right? Still going to need a bandage.” He moved away to fetch one from the pantry.

“Didn’t think ya’d be int’ blood games,” Victor whispered as he returned.

“I had no idea I could be. Call me the adventurous type. I wouldn’t do it with anyone else – barebacking included. Your healing factor negates the risks, for one thing.” He rinsed the finger at the sink, peeled the little bandage, and wrapped it around the cut. “The exploring of new things is the best part of the learning curve when you find someone unique and fascinating. Discover what they like, tell them what you like, and try to meet in the middle on the things that don’t immediately mesh.”

“So whattaya like?”

“I am a master of the drunken one night stand all-night-long screw with a stranger I hope to never see again, as you mentioned before. It’s my thing.” He smiled at the dubious look that got him. “While that’s true, I’m also into discovering some new things with you. A few of your tricks have taken over my brain.”

There was the smirk, shot through with a bit more confidence.

“Ya like how I suck ya off an’ make ya shoot yer jizz straight down my throat, ready or not.”

“I really do.” Tony went to fetch their mugs and gave Victor his sugar-coffee soup back. “I’m also pretty fond of how blunt, raunchy, and shameless you are.”

“Don’t see no point t’ pussyfootin’ ‘bout.”

Tony gulped his coffee to finish it off, and then made a decision that was bound to distress JARVIS, not to mention Pepper.

“I want to show you something, a few somethings – and you wanted to retrieve your clothes and phone.”

“Tha basement?”

“The workshop. Come on.”

*****************************************************************

Now that he had seen the window in the bedroom become a computer screen, the access keypad appearing in the glass wall by the workshop door was less of a shock. Victor intentionally didn’t watch him put in the code just to prove he could be trusted.

“Daddy’s home,” Tony said to the vast room.

Many things turned on or lit up at once and Victor struggled to maintain a poker face and not snarl at it all. Then a thing he had thought was equipment moved and swung closer to the man. Pushing him behind him, Victor growled at it, hissing as his claws popped.

“Don’t kill it, please – that’s Dum-E.”

“Huh?”

Tony moved from behind his protective arm. “I told you the suits aren’t robots, that I have robots at home – that’s one of them. The other one over there, with the video equipment, that’s U.”

“Me?”

“The letter ‘U’, that’s its … well, sort of name, I guess. I was saying ‘hey you’ a lot and it stuck.”

“That mean tha other one’s stupid?”

“No, it means it’s not exactly state-of-the-art these days and messes up often. I built it when I was fifteen and wanted to win the fourth annual MIT Robot Design Award. I started building circuit boards at four, my first engine at six. Dum-E was made in my dad’s workshop. It has its uses but don’t hand it a fire extinguisher – or a cocktail shaker.”

“Ruin my fun, why don’t ya,” Victor groused.

“Sarcasm level: expert!” Tony grinned at him.

“Did ya win it – tha contest thing?”

“Of course I did.” Tony tossed him a wink as he walked off. “Come on. Lots to see.”

Victor followed but stopped short when he saw the displays of several suits in separate alcoves. They had all been left in the shadows when he first arrived and at the time, he had only had eyes for the inventor.

“My pride and joy,” Tony announced proudly, as other men might show off their cubs.

Frowning, Victor sniffed in their direction. Every one of them was armed with repulsor technology and enough ordinance to level a few city blocks.

“Ain’t my faves o’ all tha stuff ya invented.”

“They can’t hurt you from there. They’re like the old adage, ‘suits don’t kill people, people do’. I am working on a new trick or two, though, where they will be able to act more like robots – controllable remotely – mostly utilizing JARVIS.”

“Oh, goodie.”

“Moving on.”

He had to smirk at Tony’s desk. The half-circle shape was odd but it was huge – just like Victor preferred his.

“Have a seat,” Tony invited, pulling out the chair. Seeing his eyebrow arch at it, the man smiled. “I sit in it in the suit sometimes; it can take your weight.”

Victor sat and stared at the tiered banks of screens. “Ya need a few more monitors.”

“Actually, I don’t need any of them.”

Leaning over Victor’s arm, he touched a piece of glass on the desk and a keyboard appeared – or maybe it was a control panel for the space ship house. The deft fingers tapped at the strange keys.

“Yer keyboard uses Mayan hieroglyphics?”

“Among other things. Bonus for guessing that, most people don’t know what any of them are. Can you read them?”

“Nope.”

Tony tapped a few more symbols. “Keep the claws to yourself but look up there.”

Victor twitched and growled when disembodied computer images, a dozen different ones of varying sizes, appeared in the air all over the room in front of the desk. He got up and went around the desk to sniff at them, hissing at one when he tried to touch it and his fingers actually moved a shape within it.

“That ain’t no hologram...”

“Hard light hologram, horse of a different color. The UI enables the movement of elements in the design but it’s the gesture you made that moved it – there’s technically nothing there to actually touch.”

“UI – that’s ‘user interface’?”

“It is.” Tony beamed at him.

“So this is how tha glass works? Didn’t seem like a projection.”

“Yes – but this is an advancement on the glass tech. The glass is a part of the AI in the house and in the suits.”

Stepping behind the image, Victor watched Tony through it. “Want me t’ move that back?”

“Don’t worry about it, unless you just want to play with it – not a vital model.”

“It looks like a boot. Weird.”

“It is a boot. Older plan for the Mark II. So – impressed?”

“Def impressed. Gonna show me yer wheels?”

“Are we done with the computer tech show and tell? I have a lot more to show – and tell.”

“I bet.” Victor moved back to his side, glancing down again at the mind-boggling keyboard that wasn’t even physically there. “Yer Number One thinks I’m here t’ steal all yer tech secrets – less o’ that ya show me, probly fer tha better, I’m thinkin’.”

Tony winced, looking sheepish. “You heard all of that, huh?”

“Yup.”

“I don’t think that.”

“Good, cuz I ain’t.”

“So are you just here because I mentioned a second date? Out to get your rocks off, like me? A noble goal.”

“Naw, I’m here t’ take a stab at wooin’ ya off yer feet.” Grinning, Victor winked at him. “Also need t’ get yer Hydra toy offa my fuckin’ jet – damn thing weighs nearly a ton an’ its slowin’ me down, fuel-wise.”

Chuckling, Tony hit a non-existant button on the glass and all of the ghostly holograms disappeared.

“The garage portion of the workshop is a self-guided tour. While you’re doing that, I should get some work done on a few projects. Deadlines are the Devil’s mistress.”

“Gotta be draggin’ tha line, I get it.”

“Dragging what?”

“Means workin’ rain or shine, from a song by Tommy James, was a hit in 1971.”

“What were you doing in 1971?”

“Tryin’ t’ slip my CIA leash any chance I got. They were assholes, still pissed off ‘bout me goin’ AWOL t’ hit up tha party at Woodstock a ways prior.”

“Woodstock. The Woodstock.”

“Yup.”

Tony whistled. “Remind me to borrow your music collection. I’ll even trade you for tech secrets.”

“What were ya doin’ in ‘71?”

“Learning to crawl? As if you didn’t already know that, stalker-boy.”

Victor smirked as he went around him and headed to the top of the row of parked treasures. His sniper rifle was still where he had left it, leaning on the concrete wall by the driveway ramp. Every step he took, the claws on his bare toes clicked on the concrete floor.

After a moment of watching him in silence, Tony followed him. “I bet I don’t need to tell you what they are.”

“Nope. Ya killed tha Shelby Cobra, huh?”

“Trial and error during testing. Prematurely killed the power in the Mark II and fell through a lot of the house. Shelby pancake, horrid tragedy. New lift, though – silver lining.”

“Not tha last one o’ those toys in tha world, ya know.”

“You have one?” When Victor nodded at him, he shook his head. “Jealous.”

“Let ya borrow it sometime if ya play yer cards right.” Glancing at him, Victor smiled as he arched an eyebrow at the man. “Yer ‘bout t’ pop – go do stuff if’n ya gotta. Won’t tarnish yer host rep any – if ya got one. I got these beauties t’ play with.”

“Okay, if you’re sure you don’t mind. If you want anything, the little kitchen over there has all sorts of things and there’s a bathroom in that direction, too.”

“Quit fussin’, I’m fine.” Victor stepped up to him and bent down for a tonsil-sucking kiss, just to remind the man what he could be doing instead.

“You are evil.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

Victor already knew about every car in Tony’s collection – the ones kept here and others housed elsewhere – but it was a singular pleasure to be here with the inventor not far off. He was aware Tony kept watching him here and there, the rapt expression on his pretty face one of fascination and curiosity. It warmed his blood and thickened his cock, which was a problem in the tight pajama pants.

Amused when Tony tried to pretend he was working, Victor eventually gathered up his things and dropped the boots next to the desk. He leaned the rifle against it too, next to the sloppy pile of wadded clothes. Fishing out his phone, he leaned a hip on the edge of the desk and checked his texts.

As Tony typed and clicked on the glass keyboard, some odd 3D model that was hanging in the air was changing shape, colors, and orientation. Watching him instead of the hologram, he called the banker.

“Hey. Shoot,” he greeted his friend. “Malibu, with Stark. Gonna be here ‘til Monday afternoon, then I’ll head anywhere ya wanna point me. Did that bleedin’ heart dickhead down south ever commit t’ jack all? Yeah? Does he give a shit that ‘is ‘special request’ puts me goin’ from New York t’ Arizona an’ back up t’ Vermont inside o’ a fuckin’ week? Fuck. Naw, I’ll do it – he’s good fer it. See if Montreal can be pushed back, huh? Schedule like that, gonna need t’ hit tha Appalachians fer a quickie break. Yup – exactly what I was thinkin’. Naw, she’s on it. Gotcha. Later.” Victor set the phone on the clothing pile on the desk.

“How is Creepy-san these days? Does he regret his wingman stunt now that I’m bogarting you all weekend?”

“Don’t matter t’ ‘im – time off is good therapy. Ya should try it sometime.”

“For me, making new things is my good therapy.”

“I can see that – still think ya need more dickin’ though. So why ya keep lookin’ stuck on this thing – whatever it is?”

“I’m not really stuck on this; I just need to figure out more that I can do. How about a drink? I’m having one. I don’t have Glenfiddich down here, its upstairs. Vodka? Dirty martini?”

“Works fer me.”

“It’s five o’clock somewhere, right?”

“Sit tight, I can make ‘em.”

Finding things by scent, he threw together two dirty martinis in the ultra-modern kitchenette area and returned to sit on top of the steel curved desk next to the weird keyboard.

“Here. So what’s got ya stuck? Ya work nearly all tha time, why ya need more t’ do? Ya need t’ relax, loosen up, an’ have some fun.”

Victor downed half of his drink in one gulp, struggling not to smirk when Tony noticed the stiff plaid erection.

*****************************************************************

Tony took the drink and sighed after the first sip. “Mother’s milk. I have a board of directors to worry about – Stark Industries took a hit in the stock market after I said I wouldn’t make weapons for the military anymore. The natives are restless and I need to throw them some new bones.”

“Yer gonna come up with somethin’, ya always do.”

“Hey – you’re a smart tech-savvy guy, help me brainstorm. What can I invent new or make better that isn’t weapons? A market with a wide and rich potential for expansion would be ideal, something everyone needs.”

“Huh. Lemme think.”

Victor looked around the workshop and then down at his distracting groin as he finished off his drink and set the glass on the desk. Tony was trying not to stare at the blonde’s straining cock. Happy probably wasn’t going to get those pajamas back – their odds of surviving the afternoon intact were abysmal.

“All this an’ ya never made yer own sexbot?”

“What? Ah, no.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m against slavery?”

“Don’t count with a robot. Program it t’ say yes.”

Stumped, Tony frowned. “You’re missing the point. Wide.”

“Thing I always wondered? How would ya handle cleanin’ it. It’d be metal, rubber, plastic – right? A woman can wash but unless ya programmed fer that, it’s gonna be like a used brass spittoon after a bit.”

Tony grunted, rolled the chair back, and put his head on his desk.

“Maybe ya could make tha pussy an’ ass a detachable waterproof piece? Mouth an’ throat, too. Rinse em in tha sink, snap ‘em back on. Simple.”

“Can’t we change the subject? We do not share the same viewpoints here.”

“Robots?”

“Misogyny.”

“Ain’t a person – yer bein’ squeamish; it don’t suit ya. Take blow-up dolls –”

“I’d rather not.”

“They’re in sore need fer an upgrade. Never saw tha point, myself – they pop too easy an’ like I said, they’re a bitch t’ clean.”

“Is this being helpful?”

“‘What can ya invent new or make better that ain’t weapons’ was tha question on tha table.”

Baffled, Tony muttered into the desk, “I’m not making sexbots.”

“Bein’ able t’ get yer rocks off without havin’ t’ listen t’ some bitch whine an’ complain? I call that a market with a ‘wide an’ rich potential fer expansion’. They’d be pricey, sure, but ya’d only be payin’ fer ‘em tha once – ‘steada fer tha rest o’ yer soddin’ life.”

“Please tell me you’re joking?” He lifted his head and saw the stretch of the sharp grin topped by a wink. It sparked a reluctant snort. “Warn me next time.”

“Where’s tha fun in that?”

“You do grasp what is awful and wrong about all that, right?”

“Yer precious fight against misogyny? I noticed. ‘Sides, it’s a moot point – not like ya got any trouble gettin’ laid. How ‘bout tha rest o’ us schmucks?”

“Vodka, give me patience,” he prayed, and gulped his glass down. Setting it beside Victor’s, his hand moved like a moth to a flame to cup and squeeze the incredible erection. The mutant’s groan sharpened his lust in seconds. “Pop it out for me and hold it straight up. I need to see it.” As soon as he did it, Tony gripped it under the head and ran his thumb through the pre-cum beading the slit, smearing it. “Okay, fuck it – I need this. Gimme.”

“How ya want it?”

“Lose the pants and scoot forward. I want it right here.” Tony caught his wrist before claws could shred. Winking at him, he added, “Just shuck them off.”

Once he got them off his stunning ass, Tony pulled them down and dropped them on the floor. Without a peep of complaint, Victor moved and angled his body to offer it up. One foot planted on the seat of the chair as his hands hit and grabbed the edge of the steel desk. The legs spread as slow as the sharp grin.

Fumbling for his dick, not wanting to take his eyes off Victor’s awkward pose somehow made effortless, Tony forgot to care about the lube on the couch. Pushing in and starting to thrust, he drank in the sight of the powerful feral taking it with a hunger he’d never seen before. The cat eyes didn’t close, but watched him, too.

Tony grabbed the thick cock that was smearing pre-cum on Victor’s ribs and pulled it to him. When he gripped it hard, he grinned at the grunt and moan. Setting his feet, his other arm grabbed around the thigh over the chair so he could make it fast and rough.

He was busily jacking Victor’s cock under that glazed amber stare as the mutant hissed. The muscles of chest and shoulders shifted. He was distracted by something.

“What do you want, tell me…”

“Work yer finger int’ tha slit – fuck that, too.”

“Wow. Okay…” His thrusts eased up as he released the thigh and looked at his fingers. Angling the wrist, he put his pinkie to the hole. He’d never done this before but taking him at his word…

“Don’t bother bein’ careful,” the huffing rasp of the low voice told him. “Circle it in, use tha slick.”

Tony was so surprised at the instant electric reaction when the finger pushed in, he missed his rhythm and had to get it back again. Once the top joint disappeared, it felt like the cock was trying to suck it in deeper. Fascinated, he obliged.

“You’re lucky I could always chew gum and walk at the same time.”

The amber glow disappeared as the feral closed his eyes on a deep groan. “Fuck me…”

Tony got back to making it rough and grinned as the mutant struggled to remain still. He thrust his pinkie in and out in time with the rest, amazed at what it was doing to him. “Don’t hold back,” he whispered, “I want to see you come like this.”

Waiting was beyond his ability and he didn’t try. Victor’s excitement seemed to increase after Tony came, so he kept the thrusts going. As his companion’s orgasm hit, it sprayed and dribbled around his pinkie until he pulled it out. He managed not to catch it with his face but let it hit his chest where it dripped and slid down the cover of the arc reactor.

Smiling, Tony pulled free and set his feet again, knowing what Victor would do. The mutant’s body moved as if his spine was made of elastic and rubber instead of covered by Adamantium. One arm circled his waist and pulled him closer as the tongue eagerly went to work to clean off the reactor and his flushed skin around it.

Still sitting on the desk, he set his forehead on Tony’s shoulder and this time, Tony lifted his hands to stroke the drying hair. The large body shivered at the touch. The heightened intimacy of it all struck him at once and without bothering to consider why, he retreated from it and dropped his hands to the broad shoulders.

“Maybe that’s enough line dragging for now,” he muttered into a twitching pointed ear. We should relax a bit. How about a little TV?” The low rumbling purr threatened to melt his bones. “You can get your cuddle on,” Tony conceded. Moving away and setting his lounge pants to rights, he added, “Don’t forget to grab your stuff. Better shinny back into the plaid, though – just in case.”

When Victor moved off the desk and Tony asked JARVIS to shut things down, he saw car keys poking out of Victor’s wadded up jeans.

“Did you drive here? I didn’t see a vehicle when I flew in.”

The feral swallowed hard, seeming a bit dazed still. “It’s down yer hill,” he muttered.

“Oh, well, you should bring it up. There’s the circular drive in front, if you don’t want to park it in here.”

Victor shook his head as if trying to clear out cobwebs. “Gonna be in my jeans fer that.”

“Want me to drive you down?”

“Naw.”

“No escaping. Monday afternoon, they can have you back – until then, you’re mine. Right?”

Victor’s tentative smile slowly morphed into the trademark smirk. “Yes, Tony.”

~ ~ ~

Tony stood at the open front doors and watched as Victor parked a black Hummer H1. Walking out to him, he handed over the sniper rifle and the mutant stowed it in the back.

“Excellent. Now let’s get you back out of those jeans. This is pajamas day. More clothes?” he asked, as Victor pulled a large black duffel bag from the cab. “Got your own pajamas?”

“Nope – don’t own any. Got some like these, though.” Two fingers pinched the soft black cotton over Tony’s groin and tugged it playfully.

“That works.”

Tony waited in the living room for him as Victor went down the stairs to put his stuff in the bedroom. He returned in gray cotton lounge pants that actually fit him.

Leading the way to the long curve of the couch, he saw Victor blinking in the bright sunlight. “JARVIS, dim the windows a bit and give us CNN.”

“Of course, sir.”

Watching for the reaction of his guest, Tony smiled at Victor’s raised upper lip. He had hesitated for a moment when a large part of the panoramic window glass became a television screen and the rest of it dimmed to mute the sunshine coming in.

“Impressive poker face.” Tony sat on the couch on one end.

“So tha ugly-ass art in yer bedroom ain’t hidin’ a screen? It’s on tha windows everywhere.”

“Correct. The ugly-ass art is a painting several people I don’t like desperately want to buy. I wanted to display it where I could appreciate the fact that they can’t have it. It’s Jackson Pollock’s ‘No. 5’ from 1948 and it set me back $140 million.”

Victor snorted. “I’d give ya a shiny nickel an’ hang it in an outhouse.”

“It’s a pointless gloat thing. It also looks better when you’re drunk. Join me?”

The mutant stretched out on the couch and put his head on Tony’s lap, just like the cat he had claimed earlier that he didn’t intend to be. Electing not to tease him about it, Tony picked up one of the fancy beads in his hair and toyed with it. There were two that looked like bone and were carved – one full of roses and the other decorated with a spiral of black birds, maybe ravens.

“Are these antiques?”

“Guess ya could say that.”

“Ah … are they … people?”

“Yup.”

“Trophies?” Tony set the bead gently onto the sculpted cheekbone.

“No. Closer t’ tha concept o’ ‘memento mori’.”

“Remember death? You pretty much can’t die, so why do you need to remember it?”

“Keepsakes?” He drew in a deep breath and let it out as a shaky sigh. “Ya probly don’t wanna know…”

Tony picked them both up and let them sit on his fingers. “I do want to know. It’s okay.”

“Tha ravens, bone came from a man who tried t’ kill me when I was young. My friend, who taught me how t’ build tha railroad, he carved it from tha femur – scorched tha birds in our fire t’ turn ‘em black. I carved tha other one with tha roses … after he was killed.”

“Our fire… I understand – he was more than just a friend. I’m sorry. You still wear them…”

“I still…”

He fell silent and Tony swallowed, feeling like an intruder. A thin sliver of jealousy threaded through his awkward regret in digging up painful things the feral probably didn’t want to share. He’d never felt a connection like that, beyond friendship – he wasn’t sure he was capable of it. Glancing up at the glass front doors, he thought of Pepper.

 _I wanted to … but she stopped that cold after I revealed to the press that I was Iron Man. It was leaving her in a lurch on that roof at the benefit – running off… She needs someone she can rely on, someone who will be there for her. She knows me too well, I guess._ He let the carved femur bone beads roll off his fingers. _This is Pepper. She deserves better than you and you know it._

When Victor shifted, Tony moved his arm to let him rise to sit up. The black pupils were wider in the dimmed light. He found himself staring into those strange eyes as Victor moved closer and touched his face.

The kiss was slow, light and gentle, giving instead of taking, and he found himself sinking into it and relaxing in the other man’s cradling touch under his jaw.

Whispering against those soft lips, ignoring the lethal spikes on either side of them, Tony asked, “Have you ever felt like that again … after?”

“I have.”

“You’re ahead of me by a mile, then.”

Victor pulled back enough to look in his eyes, his expression softer and more open than he’d ever seen it, even in sleep.

“What are you thinking?”

“Ya probly don’t wanna know.”

Tony studied him in silence a moment before leaning in to kiss him with a growing lust that only partly felt like an escape from the warmth in the feral’s amber eyes.

“You’re probably right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baseball research trivia: in 2003, the Chicago Cubs were the runners-up for the National League Championship. Of course, Victor really likes them because of the word “cubs”. The little girl he used to take to games was his partner Lenusya when she was an actual little kid, before her mutant gift kicked in.
> 
> Victor is too afraid of rejection to be honest about how he feels, so he hides emotional things in flippant quips and avoidance and Tony assumes he’s kidding. Tony is shying away from anything more intimate than just getting their rocks off and once the sex is over, he retreats. These two are both a mess in the ‘how to build and navigate feelings’ department, romantically speaking. Poor hyper-sexed yet love-starved boys… LOL.
> 
> Thanks for reading my tiny little IronTooth ship! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic)


	4. Long Dark Teatime of the Soul

Oh life, it’s bigger  
It’s bigger than you  
And you are not me  
The lengths that I will go to  
The distance in your eyes  
Oh no, I’ve said too much – I set it up

That’s me in the corner  
That’s me in the spotlight  
Losing my religion  
Trying to keep up with you  
And I don’t know if I can do it  
Oh no, I’ve said too much  
I haven’t said enough

Every whisper  
Of every waking hour  
I’m choosing my confessions  
Trying to keep an eye on you  
Like a hurt, lost and blinded fool, fool  
Oh no, I’ve said too much – I set it up

Consider this  
Consider this, the hint of the century  
Consider this, the slip  
That brought me to my knees, failed  
What if all these fantasies come  
Flailing around  
Now I’ve said too much  
But that was just a dream  
That was just a dream

I thought that I heard you laughing  
I thought that I heard you sing  
I think I thought I saw you try

But that was just a dream  
Try, cry, why try  
That was just a dream  
Just a dream  
Just a dream, dream

~ Losing My Religion (R.E.M.)

*****************************************************************

Victor hissed with heat when Tony’s hand slid inside his pants and squeezed.

“Your turn.” Tony untangled himself from his grasp and stood. As he moved to his other side and stripped off the lounge pants, he settled onto his back and spread his legs with one foot on the coffee table. “Tell me you were opportunistic enough to bring the lube in here from the bedroom.”

“I stuffed it under yer couch cushion.”

The sigh of relief the man let out made Victor hard in one ragged indrawn breath. “Oh, good. I need to be worshipped a little, stalker-boy.”

Ditching his pants on the floor over Tony’s, he fished out the Sylk bottle as his other hand spread flat over the man’s pretty abs. The warm brown eyes watched him as he drank in the sight of that body, his to sink into, to taste, and to make him writhe.

Victor looked up away from him to gather his patience and saw the fireplace. There was no fire lit, but the wide hearthbench was made of large stones and bordered by natural boulders. Before it, a huge blonde cowskin was spread like a rug.

“If you want a fire, JARVIS can light one. The d’Aquataine is a fun thing to play on. I like the feel of fur on bare skin – obviously.”

“Yeah… Light it.”

“And off with the TV, huh?” Tony asked, and Victor realized his tone changed when speaking to the house.

The silence was welcome. As the fire was automatically lit, the air conditioning kicked in and lowered the temperature as the windows darkened until it looked like night out there – it must have been preset that way. Even the glass front doors across the vast round room and the skylight window had turned black.

Tony moved and Victor watched him stand in front of the fireplace. He went down to his knees on the skin, one hand running up his torso to touch the edge of the bright reactor. As the lighting dimmed more overhead, the blue glow blended with the red and yellow firelight.

Memories refracted his vision until the high-tech room was overlaid by rough-hewn log cabin walls. A man was there, sitting on the hearthbench – a shadow far larger than the pale sylph kneeling on the skin. The French words, firm but kind, called him to come. He could still feel the nervous eager heat in trembling young limbs – the want in his body, the fear that haunted his mind. The shadow spoke again: _‘I won’t hurt you…’_

The sylph raised his hand to him and the voice of Tony spoke softly in English, “I won’t hurt you.”

Victor flinched and the spell was broken. He approached slowly, touching fingertips to that soft and smooth pale hand.

Tony laced their fingers and drew him in. Victor sank down to kneel with him and then the man released his hand and lay back on the skin. One knee raised, the legs open to invite him.

“Tell me you want me, Victor.”

Swallowing hard, he could only whisper. “Tried t’ stop … when ya left me in New York. In Helsinki, I realized I didn’t want t’ stop. Time won’t wait fer me t’ grasp … any o’ this. I want ya … before it takes ya away from me.”

The warm dark eyes, so like the other one, almost closed as he began to slow his breathing. “Make me forget about time – make me forget … everything…”

Touching him, opening him with pleasure to help him give pleasure, it was like worship. Religion was a thing he’d only given lip-service to as a child, until now. When a cold memory of the root cellar tried to intrude – forced to kneel and say words that meant nothing, to a god that had never helped him when he had tried to believe … the baleful amber stare of the hated man glaring down – he shuddered and pushed it away.

Tony’s touch was like a brand from the fire on his flushed skin. “Come on, I need to feel you…”

The plastic bottle rolled away as he put a hand under the lower back to lift his hips up. Sliding inside stole his breath as his ears were filled with the sound of his lover’s gasp. He had opened him well enough to make it smooth, easy – divine.

Pinning the pretty cock to the abdomen with his other hand, he leaned in to tickle and tease the head of it with the tip of his tongue. The back arched up under him and he moved his arms one after the other to prop him up against the forearms. Pressing their bodies close as he thrust, he let the patterns of fur and muscle rub and taunt the cock trapped between them.

Tony’s head lolled back, leaning on the edge of the hearthbench. His smooth throat stretched out, bare and vulnerable. The arms had hung down limply before they moved and the hands groped to touch Victor’s thighs and stroke them. The strong legs gripped his hips.

“Tell me,” the man whispered again.

“Tony … Anthony … I –”

“Victor, say it – tell me you want me.”

He swallowed, the purr morphing into a low growl as confusion filled his mind, chased by nameless fears. It wasn’t what he had wanted to say but it was bluntly, viciously true. “I want ya … more’n anythin’…”

Victor scented that it was about to happen, bowed his back, and dropped down the sweating body. His lips kissed the head of the cock, accepted its urgent thrust inside his mouth and caught and swallowed the sharp bursts of delicious seed.

Pleasure that needed no pain to spark it coiled in his gut. His cock continued to thrust inside the hot and tight clench of the body as it filled his mouth and throat. He lost all sense of anything but the flesh, the seed, the essence – everything around him became the man who had turned him inside out and nothing else could touch him or make him afraid. Ghosts shattered and fled as pure pleasure erupted to fill that heat.

Licking and swallowing to drain the cock in his mouth, he didn’t make a sound. This was not a mating to induce roars of triumph and this man was not something to conquer. Victor felt small, able to be hurt, yet protected and safe in the cloud of his lover’s lax contented heat.

Caught in his hold, Tony had gone limp. A surging urge to protect rose inside him and Victor slipped a palm under his head to shield him from the stone. Releasing the cock, he gently backed his out of the body with his other hand at the middle of the back. Guiding him down, he laid him on the cowskin and then curled up around him to keep him warm.

~ ~ ~

Victor woke when Tony stirred and spoke to the house.

“Open up, JARVIS – what time is it?”

Narrowing his eyes just in case, Victor was surprised when the windows all around them turned clear to reveal the last gasp of sunset.

“It is 5:45 in the evening, sir.”

Curling in closer, Victor started nuzzling Tony’s neck and ear.

“Time to eat something before I drop.”

“Again?”

“All of this exertion needs fuel. Hop up.” Tony rose when he was released and retrieved his lounge pants. After pulling them up, he tossed the other pair for Victor to catch. “I’m thinking Italian – or Cantonese. Votes?”

“We goin’ out?”

“Catering – the billionaire has remembered he can do that.”

Victor grunted as he dragged on the clothing. Tony was in full retreat mode again. He tried to shake off the intensity of what they had shared and play along. For a moment, he shivered at the memory of what he had almost confessed to.

 _Gotta be some kinda fucked up karma kickin’ my ass – tha one runnin’ from bein’ cornered int’ somethin’ deeper’s usually me._ He got as far as sitting on the hearthbench. “Don’t gotta druther as long as they can toss meat int’ a bag.”

“My other new word: ‘druther’. Does it have to be raw meat?”

“Nope.”

“Cantonese it is. I want steamed oysters with ginger garlic and Char siu – that’s marinated barbequed pork. I like it with plum sauce and honey.”

“Knock yerself out.”

“JARVIS, put that in, for two, and we’ll have Huangjiu with it – the Shaoxing wine. Tell them to ring the bell, I’ll get it at the door – they don’t need to set it up.”

“So tha house is gonna call in dinner?”

Tony smiled at him as he picked up the bottle of lube and pocketed it. “Think of the AI as a computer in the house – connected to the internet. Kitchen time.”

Victor got up and followed him, growling briefly at the scent of an older female that had been in the room hours before.

_Never heard or scented nothin’ an’ nobody in tha house from tha basement level – fuckin’ disturbin’. Bloody seal on tha workshop door has t’ be a bitch – more’n I realized._

“See? A spotless kitchen, all the dishes done and put away – it’s like magic.”

Victor snorted. People were clueless. _Hope tha damn house has defenses if’n someone decides t’ hit it._ He found a counter to lean on and opened up all of his senses just to ease the sporadic growls.

“So I thought we could take in a drive-in movie experience after dinner – not involving going out.”

 _Startin’ t’ feel like a dirty secret. Do I give a shit? Probly not ‘nuff o’ one._ Victor arched an eyebrow at him. “Must be a neat trick.”

“It is.”

“I’m game.”

“What is your favorite movie?”

“That’s a long list.”

“Which one haven’t you seen in a while?”

“ _Casablanca_ … or _Ocean’s Eleven_.”

“I have the latter. It’s a date.” He winked at Victor.

“Got tha real one? 1960 with Sinatra?”

“Is there any other choice?”

“Some idiots seem t’ think so.”

Chuckling, Tony got into the cabinets and started pulling out fancy dishes. “Main objection to the remake?”

“Brad Pitt. That guy bugs me. Clooney, I like, but Sinatra’s Danny Ocean.”

“I think you identify with the ‘well-mannered shark’ description.”

*****************************************************************

Tony asked Victor to stay in the kitchen when he went to get the delivered meal. The place was his first pick for Cantonese because the food was delicious and the people who brought it didn’t turn into fanboys with questionable motives. He tipped based on speed and this one had earned a good tip.

His guest had turned laconic as they set everything out and began to eat. With Hank’s comment about having difficulty getting the feral to talk at all echoing in his head, he sipped the rice wine and hunted for a topic. To his surprise, Victor beat him to it.

“I went t’ that expo yer pa had back in tha day – ‘is flyin’ car didn’t fly fer long.”

Tony was stumped. Never before had Victor even hinted that he was the least bit interested in Howard Stark. Then a weird thought made him feel uncomfortable and the question was out of his mouth before he could catch it.

“Did you have a thing for him? Is that why you started stalking me?”

“Nope.”

“Feel free to elaborate…?”

Victor sucked an oyster off the shell and swallowed it. “Figured it was a yes or no an’ it’s a no.”

“You said it was because I create things – how did that end up a sexual attraction?”

“Ya look sexy when ya do it?”

“Until today, you’ve technically never seen me making things. How did it start?”

“Told ya – I watched ya with that bendy skirt from an adjacent roof – liked what I saw.”

“Why were you there?”

“Tha pay was good ‘nuff an’ tha guy’s check cleared.”

“So you were paid to kill me and you didn’t because you decided I was sexy. It wasn’t the only time, was it?”

Victor smirked. “Naw, I think yer sexy lotsa times.”

“Not the only hit on me you took money for?” When he didn’t seem to be getting an answer, he leaned back on his stool with arms crossed over his chest and arched an eyebrow at the blonde. “Use your words. Communicate. It’s how we separate the men from the jellyfish.”

The mutant watched him in silence as he drank the rice wine. The crystal glass thunked on the table as claws emerged again – just long enough to tap lightly on the glass.

“That was tha first time I actually took money t’ kill ya. Others have tried t’ put killin’ ya on my schedule, but it always falls through.”

“Why?”

“Cuz I find a way t’ kill tha person who asks instead. Gettin’ creative with it these days.”

Tony sighed and snagged a piece of pork in his chopsticks, chewing thoughtfully as he watched the feral use fingers and claws to eat. “Okay. Dead-end topic, I concede.”

“Gift horse an’ mouth, as yer fond o’ sayin’ – just ‘preciate tha fact an’ don’t fuss ‘bout it.”

“Good point.”

~ ~ ~

Sort of paying attention to the drive-in sized hologram screen displayed in front of his roadster in the workshop, Tony kept glancing up at the mutant who had pulled him against him. Victor had not ignored the broken stub of his fang that was once again hanging from the corner of the windshield, but Tony hadn’t said anything when he tapped it with a fingertip.

“Oh – I have your blunderbuss, if you want it back,” he blurted out as Victor met his gaze and began to purr.

“Sounds good.” Leaning down for a kiss, he began to grope him as Tony tilted his face up for it.

The wandering hands pinched bare nipples and started to stroke lower, but Tony grabbed and held them. “Watch your movie.” Letting his hands go, he shifted and moved to sit on the feral’s fresh erection where it was trapped in the soft loose pants. Leaning forward chest to chest, he kissed the side of Victor’s neck and whispered in his ear, “Open me up again.”

He smiled against his skin as the breathing shortened fast. Yet the large hands that grasped his waistband pulled the pants away from his bare ass with an agonizing slowness that made him gasp as his dick escaped and went hard against Victor’s abs. The thick fingers stroked his asscheeks, teasing him.

“Gonna lemme use my tongue?” Victor whispered.

“No.” Tony fumbled for the lube bottle in his pocket. “Just fingers. You’re going to make me come while fucking me with them. After that, you can slip in and have your own fun – but you don’t come until I do a second time.” He pulled the bottle free and put it in Victor’s hand. “Slick up, honey.”

Tony let the mind-numbing pleasure blot out the workshop and everything else. The arc reactor was rubbing a red mark on Victor’s chest that disappeared and reappeared at every pass. Even though the skin wouldn’t bruise and Tony couldn’t seem to break it with his teeth, he kept his mouth latched onto the feral’s throat because it made him purr, growl, and writhe – the latter movement feeling amazing as the long thick fingers fucked his ass.

He bit harder right over the Adam’s apple when he came, and then the slick was rubbed between their bodies as Victor continued to finger him. Tony started using his knees to lift and lower his hips, to fuck himself deeper on the fingers.

“Come on, I want your cock…” When Victor spread his thighs under him, Tony reached between their legs and hauled what he needed out of the mutant’s pants a bit roughly. “Sorry … unless that felt good.”

“Yeah, did. It likes it.”

“Push it in hard.”

“Ya sure?”

“Yes. Make me keep still for it. Don’t let me know when. I’m open enough, but I want to feel that.”

Victor went quiet and still, and then gripped Tony’s hips and held him up over the lance of his cock. It put their mouths in line and the kiss was intense. Anticipation turned into something close to anxiety as the kissing went on. The moment he relaxed into that mouth, Victor broke the kiss and dropped his body down onto the hard cock while thrusting it up deep inside of him with a frightening force.

Tony made a sound over Victor’s shoulder that was close to a strangled scream. Instinctually trying to rise to escape it, he was held down by one big hand pressing into the healing punctures over the scars at his shoulder.

“Oh, shit…” A low growl of lust answered him. “That’s exactly what I want. Hold me still for it and fuck me rough – just fuck it to get yourself off.”

The feral ducked his head to scrape a fang edge up Tony’s neck when he turned his face to press it into that huge heavy shoulder.

“After ya paste my stomach a second time.”

“Yes… God, yes,” Tony muttered against his skin, his arms thrown around the bull neck. “It hurts – and it feels so damn good.”

Victor’s soft whisper in his ear made him shiver. “Tell me yer safeword, Tony – an’ use it if ya need t’, don’t lemme hurt ya fer real.”

The appeal stunned him. “I… Ah, I don’t … have one…”

He expected to be lectured or maybe the mutant would stop the game cold. Instead, the rich low chuckle sparked a muffled laugh into the shoulder.

“Drunken sex boy, ya hit tha jackpot with me, ya know. Gonna need t’ pick one, later. Say ‘red’ then – yeah?”

“Yeah… I will. If I need to.” He shifted his knees on the leather seat to make his body move on that glorious cock. “Fuck me, Victor – rough.”

The pressure over his healing shoulder twinged pain but it was the cock that made him gasp. The hips snapped, driving it in and back. As it opened him more, his body sank lower, shoving the long shaft deeper and deeper inside. It hit something and he felt a brief dull pain – and then it all burst into a pleasure he could barely endure. His second orgasm was a shock, enhanced by that low growling purr.

Tony couldn’t move, couldn’t escape, but he didn’t want to. Victor shifted to press down on his other shoulder, and then the soft lips kissed the punctures.

“Bite…”

He was shocked that he was unable to feel the tips of the fangs pierce his skin until they went deeper. The sucking of the blood was so erotic he began to feel drunk. The harsh thrusts were growing almost painful but he didn’t want any of it to stop.

Victor pulled his fangs free and closed the lips over the holes to stop the bleeding. He allowed Tony to lift himself and the hands moved back to his hips to pull him up more, to stop the cock from pushing too far. His speed increased and when Tony impulsively bit the mutant’s shoulder, he felt him begin to come almost instantly.

He was pulled up by the hips and the moment the cock left his body, Victor set him down to sit across his spread thighs. Tony collapsed with his forehead against the feral’s chest, staring down at the bright blue light that illuminated the mess of cum on their bodies.

“I’m thinkin’,” Victor whispered in his ear, “ya shoulda said yer new temporary safeword.”

“I don’t really like them,” Tony muttered.

“Turn me fair inside out, ya know that?”

Tony smiled but didn’t answer. The movie they had forgotten about slowly filtered into his ringing ears as the thieves plotted to stash their money in the coffin of their fallen friend.

He accepted Victor’s help to get his pants pulled up and then settled against the seat back again as that cock was put away beside him. The mutant pulled him in close and Tony rested, panting and boneless, as they finished the movie. Once the credits rolled, Victor kissed his hair on top of his head.

“I call bed fer a rest.”

“Seconded – a rest before I get to have you under me again.”

“Gonna get no complaint outta me.”

~ ~ ~

Tony was exhausted when he finally started to drop off to sleep on top of Victor, still lying between his raised knees.

_I may have to give up on ‘skivvies’ models – every one of them would have told me no by now. Victor doesn’t get tired and he’s clearly fine with letting me have it as often as I can get it up to take it._

He fell asleep, waking once at the feeling of Victor’s tongue licking him clean inside and out. He moaned when the mouth claimed his cock and sucked him off back into sleep.

~ ~ ~

Waking slowly, tired but sated, he watched Victor sleep as dawn crept in through the windows. He was just about to mentally flip a coin over whether or not to try climbing up his broad back again, when JARVIS started speaking softly – saying exactly what he didn’t want to hear.

*****************************************************************

The sound of the house talking woke Victor but when it stopped, he opened his eyes to see Tony sitting up and smiling down at him.

“Bad news, honey – I have to go run a mission.”

He sat up, the tips of his ears starting to pin. “Lemme help.”

“Let’s ... discuss the elephant in the room.”

Victor sighed, but his fingertips still reached out to touch the man’s knees where he sat with those pretty legs folded and crossed. Tony tugged at the fingers to settle Victor’s palms over the knees and then covered them with his hands.

“We both know we can’t be seen together, for slightly different but important reasons. I’m playing the hero game – as pretentious as that may be, it isn’t very convincing if I’m teaming up with the poster boy for, well, posters ... the sort that say ‘most wanted’ on them. For you, your clients and fellow villains, again, pretension aside, wouldn’t trust you much if they saw you helping me fight criminals.”

“Look, flyboy – just tell me who yer goin’ after; not one soul will see me at it, not even tha ones I kill – not even ya.”

“Your MO speaks for you, forensically.”

“Want me t’ use guns? Swords ... or rocks?”

“Rocks?” Tony pulled his hands away. “Victor you aren’t listening – this is something I need to do. Me.”

He growled and slumped, withdrawing his touch. “If’n ya don’t come back in one piece, I’m gonna slaughter tha fuckin’ Pentagon.”

“You’re so cute when you give up and sulk – frightening … but cute. Ah ... you are giving up, right?” Tony reached out and tucked the stubborn loose lock of hair behind his pinned ear.

“I’ll stay put. If ya take too long...”

“I should be back before lunch. These things don’t take me long at all.” Tony got up and leaned down to kiss the side of his throat.

The purr was instant, rumbling up at the touch he craved. “Ya ain’t had no breakfast, no java.”

“No shower, beyond a tongue bath. This is my sacrifice.” When black boxer briefs eclipsed his view, Victor sighed. “Take a nap, watch TV ... ask JARVIS for anything you need.”

“Can Skynet make me a sandwich? Or blow me?”

Tony clicked his tongue at him. “Play nice.” He began grabbing clothes – jeans, t-shirt, socks, and tennis shoes.

“Lunch. If yer late...”

“I promise.” He sat out of reach to put on the shoes after hauling the clothes on.

“Ain’t famous fer yer punctuality, hero.”

Tony stood again and faced him, smiling. “You’re even cuter when you worry.”

Victor flipped him off but ended up purring again when Tony kissed the arch of the gleaming claw.

“Won’t be long.”

Victor flopped back onto the pillow and stared at the bedroom door Tony had closed behind him.

“Where’s he goin’, Skynet?”

“I am not authorized to give that information.”

“Gimme a country – a hemisphere?”

“I am not authorized to give that information.”

Growling, Victor glared up at the ceiling. “Suck my dick, circuit freak.”

“I am not authorized – or equipped – for that, either.”

Victor scrambled to get up and went for the pack of smokes and zippo in his duffel bag. “Are ya authorized t’ open tha balcony door? Cuz I’m gonna smoke right here if’n ya don’t.”

The thing didn’t respond, but he heard a lock and seal release on the glass door. He went out nude to lean on the railing and smoke. The ocean view, as Tabitha had assumed, was still breathtaking. The safe house was on the other side of Malibu Point from Tony’s bedroom, but she would be in the Yukon by now.

_Not that she could see me wave from here._

He growled absently as his hair kept trying to tangle around his cig. The braid was fairly messy and more strands had escaped it. Tucking it behind his ears was pointless, so he just put up with it as he sucked down the cig a little faster.

The sound of the waves was soothing and he didn’t really want to go back inside the house. Its best feature, besides the wide open spaces, was Tony’s scent all over it. It was strange to be here without him – unsettling.

Victor hadn’t spotted an ashtray anywhere, so he stubbed the cig out on the back of his hand and flicked the butt of it into the breeze. He was almost surprised when the door opened and let him back inside.

He tossed the pack back into the duffel and put his jeans on before grabbing his brush. Sitting on the rumpled bed to tackle his hair, he breathed in Tony’s scent and the delicious smell of their mating that still lingered on the sheets. Growling his way through brushing and rebraiding – braiding it wet had made the curls go nuts – he tossed the brush into the duffel from the bed and got up with a huff.

In the john, he growled up at the ceiling as he took a piss. “Ya got eyes in here, too?” When the house didn’t answer, he snorted. _Wonder if I can get tha java machine t’ not shoot spores at me._

After checking his phone, he tucked it into a front pocket of his jeans and left to do battle in the kitchen.

Poking and prodding the thing on the counter didn’t get him anywhere. It didn’t seem to have buttons and he hadn’t been watching when Tony had gotten the carafe to show up in the open cavity of it.

Growling, he rubbed at his already scratchy chin. “I give – how’s it work?”

He could swear the cultured British voice sounded amused. “Do you wish me to make coffee?”

Victor sighed. “Yeah. Strong.” He glared at the machine as it began to make brewing noises. “How ‘bout puttin’ CNN on, like he said? Over at tha couch.” In the distance, he heard the chatter of his favorite channel start up.

The sugar bowl was empty but he found more on the counter in a container and snagged the same large mug from a cabinet that he’d had before. When the weird noises slowed down, he watched the thing. The little doors opened on their own to reveal the full glass carafe. The rich scent of the java filled the kitchen. He had poured some into the mug and was pouring in sugar directly from the larger container when a noise made his ears twitch. A car was pulling up near the front doors. Growling, he set the mug down and went to investigate.

A gray Mercedes had parked a short distance from his Hummer and his ears pinned when he saw Pepper Pots get out of it. She was dressed more casually than the suits he’d seen her in, but still snappy in a white blouse and navy pants with navy flats.

As she approached the doors, she saw him through the glass and froze for a moment. He watched her as she gave a little shake of her head and walked up to the doors. They clicked just as she got there and he assumed the computer had unlocked them for her.

“Good morning, Mr. Creed. Where’s Tony?”

“Ask tha house – damn thing wouldn’t tell me.”

“Oh, he went off on a mission? JARVIS?”

“Yes, Miss Potts – Mr. Stark is currently in Syria.”

“Skynet likes ya, huh?”

“Yes. Are you … staying?”

“He said Monday mornin’. Probly thought that was when ya’d be back, too.”

“I can only stand so much relaxing at once. Is there coffee? You have to ask JARVIS to make it.”

“It did – finally.”

When she went into the kitchen, Victor took a detour to the bedroom and pulled his Rammstein t-shirt back on. Aggravation brought the claws out and they clicked on the concrete floor as he returned to the kitchen to get his mug. He ignored her, grabbed the mug, and went into the UFO living room.

Listening to the TV, he moved slowly around the huge room and finally began taking in the details. He rolled his eyes at the waterfall art thing and the odd modern art thing next to it. The open round area next to the waterfall was where the lift had been, after Tony had apparently killed his piano. The lift didn’t appear to even exist now and how the thing had worked went over his head.

The collection of odds and ends on glass shelves along one wall drew him closer as he gulped sugary java. A few chunky clear awards sat among pieces that looked like they should be in a museum.

He knew Pepper was standing at the kitchen entrance watching him, but he continued to ignore her. Going up the short steps, he read a few of the metal plaque tags on the awards. They were all from technology groups and organizations.

Behind him, Pepper moved farther into the living room, no doubt to keep him in sight.

_As if tha house computer creepin’ me out an’ hackin’ me off ain’t ‘nuff._

The TV caught his attention with a breaking story about Iron Man and he went across the room to flop onto the couch and watch. A moment later, he sat forward on the edge of it and growled as someone’s camera showed Tony being shot at as he flew over a dingy city.

Pepper moved to sit on the opposite end of the long curved couch and set her mug down on the coffee table. She would glance at the TV on the window but mostly continued to watch him.

Restless from seeing Tony in danger, he thunked his mug onto the coffee table and started to pace and growl in front of the screen. When the story ended and they moved on to something else, he turned to frown at Pepper.

“Are ya afraid if ya don’t keep an eye on me, I’ll knick tha silver?”

“I was thinking you might hack the AI system and steal technology secrets, but essentially, yes – or at first, I should say. It upsets you to see him dented up and shot at on the news?”

“It don’t upset ya?”

“It does. I’d still like an answer to my question.”

“Makes me wanna jump in an’ lend a fist.”

“Why?”

Victor stared back at her, one eyebrow arched. “Wanna have ‘is back – keep ‘im safe.” She drew a breath to answer but Victor interjected, “Ain’t gotta look at me like I got two heads. Not gonna do nothin’ t’ tha man or steal jack from ‘im.”

“Why are you here, then – just because of ‘trench bonding’?”

“Here cuz he actually lemme in – brought ‘is Hydra gadget.”

“Not for any other reason?”

Victor sneered at her. “Tha sex is pretty fuckin’ worth it.”

“That doesn’t bother me, Mr. Creed. I like Tony happy. After his speech the other morning, I got the impression you can make him happy. The vampire act freaks me out and worries me… He insists you won’t hurt him – even with that. If he’s right and you won’t … then I can work on adjusting to you being around him, and being here.”

“Bet ya’d prefer t’ see tha back o’ me. That’s my truck right outside tha front door.”

“No, I wouldn’t – I don’t want him to think I chased you off. He wants you here. Please stay.”

Victor snorted. “Easy t’ see ya don’t want me ‘round.”

“I don’t know you; he feels he does.”

Sighing, Victor sat again, batted his braid behind him, and slumped low on the couch. “Fine.”

“What is bothering you, besides the news on him?”

“Don’t like this house,” he muttered. “Two hackles away from feelin’ trapped, lessen he’s here.”

“The house won’t trap you. Why is it better when he’s here – besides the obvious perks you mentioned before?”

Victor got up again and began to pace in front of the dark and cold hearth. If he were Tony and tried to get Lenusya or Perrin to stand out of his way, he’d have to convince them he wasn’t a threat. He had promised Tony he wouldn’t hurt Pepper, but being an inscrutable asshole to her wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Odds were her disapproval could sway the man to send him packing.

_This is why just wantin’ t’ get yer wick wet is better. Aimin’ t’ keep ‘em gets tangled up in other shit. Hafta deal with this skirt sooner or later – doubt she’s goin’ anywhere. At least it ain’t tha fuckin’ Air Force Colonel; bet he’s a prime cockblocker._

Pepper lifted her mug again pointedly and sipped with the air of a woman who had all day if she needed it. Victor growled. She almost reminded him of Lenusya – her more aggravating traits.

 _If’n I tell a bit o’ my truth, though, tryin’ t’ convince ‘er – is she gonna believe it?_ He frowned. _Tony’s worth puttin’ up with this, ain’t he?_ _Just jump, asshole._ “He’s pretty, he can fuck like nobody else, an’ he ain’t afraid o’ me … but it’s more’n that. He fascinates me. I like t’ watch ‘im, listen t’ ‘im talk. He’s so smart, he makes me look like a fuckin’ insect, but he don’t treat me like I’m stupid. I like that he creates stuff an’ he’s … not tryin’ t’ hurt me.”

“I would have thought nothing could hurt you, after what I saw on the bridge.”

“Surefire way t’ prove ya dunno me. Nearly every smart fucker I ever met treated me like a lab rat or a dog.”

Pepper’s eyes widened, and then she shook her head. “That is awful. So when Tony is here…?”

“I can focus on ‘im an’ not feel so boxed in. I can relax, knowin’ he won’t try t’ take me apart t’ see what makes me tick – least I ain’t seen no surgical kits ‘round, prepped fer an exploratory vivasection.”

When he settled, he sat on the smooth rounded hearthbench and dug his toes into the blonde d’Aquataine cowskin rug spread in front of it, remembering to retract claws first. He closed his eyes and for a moment, he could almost smell pine, birch, and poplar trees.

Victor’s voice turned softer as he murmured, “If he’s with me, I can sleep.” He twitched, winced, and looked up at her, startled he’d admitted that aloud.

“You have trouble sleeping?”

He frowned but nothing about her tone or body language implied an overt threat. “Nightmares … insomnia, PTSD,” he replied with reluctance.

The unwanted conversation had started to feel like an interview – or an interrogation. He was trying to be patient with her, because he understood her. She shared his need to protect Tony Stark and Victor was well aware that few people thought of him as a safe companion.

“That arc reactor – nobody else has that an’ I can sleep … touchin’ it. I know it’s ‘im cuz o’ it an’ it’s…” His frustrated growl startled her and though she had a good poker face on, he could scent the abrupt fear. Victor looked at her. “Won’t hurt ya, won’t touch ya … promised Tony I wouldn’t. Promised I’d save ya if I found ya in a jam – that’s why I jumped behind yer car on tha bridge. Can’t help some o’ tha sounds I make.”

“Okay … I believe you.”

Victor growled again, but it wasn’t directed at her. “Hate those motherfuckin’ Yanks fer callin’ ‘im away t’ risk ‘is neck doin’ their fuckin’ job.”

“Welcome to my world.” She took a breath and let it out slow. “I think I’ll order in some Chinese takeout, he likes that when he returns from these ‘missions’. Is there anything along that vein that you can eat? I understand your dietary needs are … particular.”

“Sweet an’ sour pork, with pineapple.”

“Oh, that is good.” She fished her phone out of the purse on the coffee table, and then paused and looked at him again. “Pineapples aren’t meat.”

“Got me a sweet tooth.”

“I see. I’ll tell them to deliver in an hour.”

Victor didn’t bother to mention that Tony had gotten something similar for their dinner the night before. Odds were the man wouldn’t care as long as it was quick and efficient.

“Would you like to have a second cup of coffee with me out on the veranda, Mr. Creed? No more interrogation questions, I promise, although I’d love to ask you what the last century was like.”

“Sure, if ya do me one favor.”

“What is that?”

“Call me Victor.” When Pepper smiled at him, he felt himself slowly start to relax. _Fuck Skynet, if Girl Friday likes me, I’m in._

“It’s a deal, Victor.” Still smiling, she dialed and began to order lunch.

~ ~ ~

“By tha time I plucked ‘im offa tha ice, I’d already taken out two assholes that wanted t’ pay me t’ kill tha man. That ain’t a lark, neither – gotta be careful an’ avoid gettin’ a rep fer killin’ clients. Once that shit starts, ya can end up with none left willin’ t’ hire ya.”

“Thank you for … protecting him.”

Victor smirked and took another gulp of the sweet coffee. “Yer welcome.”

“He was thrilled to attack that Hydra base with you.”

“Natch – blowin’ ‘em sky high is always a damn good time.”

“I have to admit, the fact that you hate them makes me feel better.” She looked out at the perfect blue of the Pacific for a moment before turning back to him. “So when were you born?”

“All’s I know is 1868.”

“Goodness. Tony said you fought in World War I, and most other wars, apparently?”

“Yup.” Deciding to jump and ask a question of his own, he flicked a glance back at the house. “There a reason why he programmed tha house with snark an’ an irritatin’ sense o’ humor?”

“I think he wanted a companion, not just a servant.” Undetered, she veered back to her topic. “Do you like being a soldier?”

“Not particularly. Takin’ orders blows.”

“Then why…?”

“Bein’ a soldier means gettin’ paid t’ kill an’ nobody tries t’ lock ya up or hang ya fer it. Assassin work – tha type that can make ya rich – didn’t have a clue ‘bout that ‘til decades later, after tha Cold War. Wouldn’t trade it in fer bein’ a grunt, any road.”

“I’ll probably end up nervous that you could inspire him to take needless risks.” She sighed at his smirk. “More than he does already. You also make promises to him that involve me but neither of you see fit to tell me. This has the makings of a rather worrisome boy’s club, at the very least.”

“Well if ya like, I can make ya a promise an’ not tell ‘im. Fair’s fair?” He studied her reactions as he drank more coffee.

“Like what?”

“How ‘bout I promise not t’ tell Tony when yer havin’ impure thoughts ‘bout ‘im.”

Pepper frowned. “I don’t.”

“Uh-huh. Dunno if it helps or hinders, but in bed, he’s plenty worth tha trouble he can be.” Victor smirked again. “Or would ya rather I promised t’ watch out fer ‘im?”

“I ... yes, promise me that. How can you know what I’m thinking?”

“Yer scent changes.”

“My ... scent... That is ... intrusive, and downright disturbing.”

“Yeah? Ya should try it from my end. Yer producin’ that shit; my senses ain’t gotta choice ‘bout pickin’ up on it. Some o’ it really plays havoc with my instincts, too – may as well be puppet strings on me.”

“So you know how I feel just by smell? How can you be sure you’re interpreting the data correctly?”

“I can also hear yer heart rate change an’ read micro expressions – it’s a real feat t’ successfully lie t’ me. Tha few that manage it either catch me too distracted t’ care or they’re so batshit crazy an’ believe tha bullshit they’re shovelin’ so much, that it seems like they ain’t lyin’.”

“Yet anger can often mask fear. If you detect anger, you might miss the underlying cause of it.”

Victor tried not to let the predatory stare take over his face. “Oh, I can scent fear.” He tilted his head slightly, breathing in the anxiety she was trying to hide. “Fear lights up tha air like napalm.”

“Do I have a reason to be afraid of you?”

He leaned back, drumming his fingers on the edge of the table. “Nope. Cuz I aim t’ keep my promise t’ Tony.”

Pepper regarded him coolly for a moment. “Why do you commit rape?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, ears twitching. “Ya ain’t earned gettin’ that sorta honesty outta me. I ain’t a threat t’ Tony – ‘im an’ ‘is are safe from me.”

“And I’m safe because you promised him.”

“That an’ tha fact that yer a part o’ tha stuff classified as bein’ ‘is.”

“How very Mesozoic of you.”

“Just call ‘em like I see ‘em. ‘Sides, ya can’t fool me – yer not worried ‘bout riskin’ yer safety cuz yer too wrapped up in worrin’ ‘bout ‘is.” Victor paused and then grudgingly admitted, “I respect that.”

“You really are taken with him, aren’t you?”

“Yup. That gonna be ‘nuff fer ya?”

“I guess we’ll see.”

Victor’s ears moved – erect and turned slightly outward. “He’s headin’ back.”

It was about ten minutes later when she heard Tony, too, though the lift couldn’t be seen from the patio. She gave him a searching look before she rose.

“Wait here, would you? I’ll tell him you’re out here and watch for our lunch to arrive.”

“No prob.” When she disappeared into the house, Victor slumped in the chair. “Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sabretooth limited series comics story "Mary Shelley Overdrive" established the idea that Victor doesn’t like Brad Pitt. I have no idea why, I just think it’s funny. In that story, his suite in the brothel safe house has a framed movie poster on the wall of the 1960 "Ocean’s Eleven". Victor has always struck me as being a movie buff, and the same comic character who said he didn’t like Brad Pitt mentioned that he loves Monty Python. In the special Uncanny X-Men story "Sabretooth: In the Red Zone", Cyclops and Iceman go to a safe house apartment of Victor’s in New York City and find it very orderly, full of books, and there’s even a little bonsai tree on the coffee table. I have always felt that these little clues were ignored by the X-Men that maybe there was more to Victor than just being a blood-soaked killer. It is fun for me to have Tony actually put the effort in to learn more about him. 
> 
> I’ve also edited the location of Tony’s mansion from “Point Dume” (the actual place) to Malibu Point, which is the address Tony gives for his home in Iron Man 3. Point Dume is state park protected land, so even though it’s the same location, Marvel has taken the liberty of changing it. I researched it and then forgot about the address he cites to the media to bait the Mandarin. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic)


	5. A Sea for Me to Swim

Took the breath from my open mouth  
Never known how it broke me down  
I went in circles somewhere else  
Shook the best when your love was home  
Storing up on your summer glow  
You went in search of someone else

And I hear the ship is comin’ in  
Your tears a sea for me to swim  
And I hear a storm is comin’ in  
My dear is it all we’ve ever been?

Caught the air in your woven mouth  
Leave it all I’ll be hearing how you went  
In search of someone else

Taught the hand that taught the bride  
Both our eyes lock to the tide  
We went in circles somewhere else

And I hear the ship is comin’ in  
Your tears a sea for me to swim  
And I hear a storm is comin’ in  
My dear is it all we’ve ever been?

Anchor up to me, love  
Anchor up to me, love  
Anchor up to me, love  
Oh, anchor up to me, my love

~ Anchor (Novo Amor)

*****************************************************************

Victor went still as Tony appeared over the rise and walked down the sidewalk to join him at the table. He seemed no worse for wear, tired but smiling, and simply beautiful in the glow of the California sun. His sunglasses were expensive but understated and the red lenses made Victor smirk. He pulled out a chair and sat down, drank half of the coffee mug’s contents he’d brought with him, and relaxed into a slouch.

“See? Before lunch. You even survived Pepper coming back early.”

Pepper reappeared with food, effectively curtailing any response Victor was inclined to make.

The two of them fell into a comfortable rhythm of discussing the mission as Victor watched, vaguely feeling out of place. He got the distinct impression that if they’d been having lunch at one of his houses, with Lenusya or Claudette, Tony would be perfectly at home and at ease. Victor couldn’t quite manage that and ended up eating to have something to do and listening to them talk as he watched Tony.

“Well,” Pepper announced as she rose from her chair, “I have some work to do, so I’ll leave you both to it.”

“We’ll be in the workshop,” Tony responded with a chipper smile to her concerned expression. “Although, we should run that errand out to LAX and get the pulse device off your jet.”

Victor watched Pepper walk off until he heard the door close out of sight. “Don’t gotta go so far fer that.” He turned to Tony. “It’s in the back o’ my Hummer – has been.”

“Of course it is.” Snagging the last gooey cube of pineapple from Victor’s plate with his fingers, Tony ate it and winked at him behind those rose-colored glasses. “Was there a purpose in telling me it was on your jet?”

“Never did say that. Ya just assumed. Offloaded it when I landed, been drivin’ ‘round with tha thing t’ bring it here. It has been a pain in tha fuel supply, though, before that.”

“Huh. Damn. You’re right. Nice subterfuge skills. Why didn’t you just drive up and say so?”

“Not in tha habit o’ draggin’ my ride in before I know I’m welcome. ‘Sides, figured if I did that, ya’d say thanks an’ shoo me off.”

“I’m not shooing you until late Monday morning – tomorrow, time flies – chiefly because I’ll have a ton of press, meetings, and more work to do by then. And I just now got out of the suit, naturally ... not wild about getting back in it.” He sighed, looking a bit beyond just tired.

“Why would ya need t’?”

“Getting the device into the workshop without it should be fun.”

“Only if’n ya want me t’ pretend I can’t lug it in there.”

“Good point. Bonus. Which reminds me, Happy will be back tomorrow – strength training, boxing, and self-defense sessions once a day.”

“I could help with that, if ya wanted – so’s ya ain’t skippin’ ‘nother day.”

Tony’s eyebrows went up and he chuckled. “I’d rather spar with him and get to the meetings in one piece.”

Victor slumped in the chair with a growl, looking away and out at the Pacific.

“What?” Tony leaned in and covered his fist with a hand. “Tell me.”

“Wouldn’t hurt ya. How many times I gotta say that, t’ how many o’ yer minions? How often I gotta say it t’ ya?”

The inventor huffed out a breath and leaned back again as he emptied his coffee mug. He set it down with a click on the glass table. “Okay. Later on, we can hit the gym for a spell – but just weights. You can spot me, since you reminded me that you can bench the weight of your utility truck.”

Tony was smiling at him with amusement when Victor turned back to watch him again.

_I’m still a novelty toy t’ ‘im – probly nothin’ gonna change that. At least, he might could be a li’l nicer on tha phone next time I find ‘is wayward tech in tha wrong hands … maybe. Bet he won’t wanna go fer ‘date three’. I ain’t no leggy brainy redhead with sweet perky tits._

Tony studied him as his stubby fingernails tap-tapped on the mug in front of him. “I would give a lot to know what is going on in that head of yours.”

With a short growl of annoyance, Victor rose and headed up the walkway to the circular drive as Tony belatedly followed him.

“Ain’t worth all that much, flyboy.”

~ ~ ~

Lugging in the crate as promised, Victor only shrugged when the inventor asked him to take the device out of it. Popping a claw, he slashed the steel nails that sealed the lid down and got to it, leaving the rest of the random goodies inside. Some of them were still smeared with dried blood, the papers in the satchel stuck together with it here and there, but the chunky odd device was relatively clean.

He set the heavy thing down nearby on the rubber-topped metal work table that Tony indicated, via a wordless stunned point.

Recovering his tongue, Tony asked, “Are you sure you don’t mind me acquiring this as a cover?” He held up the large wad of black material that sported a massive scarlet Hydra logo.

“Nope. With my rep, some idiot would get tha wrong idea. ‘Sides, I prefer more personal souvenirs.”

Tony draped the device with the cloth, not commenting when Victor set the lid back down crookedly over the crate.

“That reminds me – why no human bones and teeth choker these days?”

“It’s in tha truck. Figured ya probly wouldn’t miss it.”

“Well ... if you don’t tell me how to dress, I won’t curtail your fashion sense, in human remains or clothes.”

“I’m mostly gonna tell ya not t’ wear any.”

“Now on that, we are in agreement – even though we both appear to be in them.”

“That’s an easy fix.”

Victor hooked fingertips under the hem of Tony’s t-shirt and playfully tugged at it. When the man took a step back out of reach, Victor frowned.

“Since you distracted me yesterday, I need to get some more work done, first. Then we can play – and lift more heavy stuff.”

Shrugging, Victor leaned a hip against the table. “Yer call – ain’t promisin’ not t’ distract ya, though.”

“Why so quiet at lunch? Did Pepper freak you out? Was it the third degree? A redhead tribunal of one?”

“Naw, I’ve had worse. She’s just tryin’ t’ watch yer back, same as me.”

“Huh. What do you think of her?”

“Seriously?” He folded his arms over his chest and stared at the man.

“Yes.”

Tony took off the sunglasses and set them beside the device. He stuffed his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans and held his gaze as if daring him to answer.

Victor sighed. “Smart, fierce … not afraid t’ speak ‘er mind, even with me glarin’ across too small a space at ‘er. That’s a feat, ya know.”

Tony smiled. “Yes, I know. What else?”

“Are ya fishin’ fer me t’ say she’s fuckable?”

“Ah…”

“Wouldn’t kick ‘er outta bed. Still ain’t gonna lay a paw nor claw on that. Ya happy?”

“I … just wanted your opinion. I realize it could take a while, to find some sort of common ground, but when the people I like to hang out with hate each other, it makes life needlessly stressful.”

“We already found an’ discussed our common ground.”

“Oh. Care to share?”

“Worryin’ ‘bout ya, wantin’ t’ make sure yer safe. Don’t mind tha mini-interrogation too bad, on retrospect. I understand it an’ I’m aware I ain’t what most folks consider ‘safe’.”

“So then why were you so quiet at lunch?”

“I ain’t a chatterbox.”

“You talk to me just fine – when it’s just me. Usually.”

“She don’t like me, hero. Tha two o’ ya got that ‘finishin’ each other’s thoughts’ shit goin’ on, in sync crap. Got no reason t’ butt int’ that.”

“Well … okay.”

Victor moved behind him and ghosted his lips across the back of his neck, smiling when he shivered.

“If’n ya want me t’ play nice with ‘er, I will, but…” Brushing the shell of his ear, he whispered, “Ain’t here t’ be with ‘er.” His hands came up and the fingers drummed down Tony’s biceps before gripping them lightly.

“I know, but thanks … for the offer to play nice.”

“With Pepper, mind – yer house is a dick.”

Tony chuckled. “I like JARVIS to give me a hard time. Maybe that’s why I like you.”

“I come with perks it ain’t got.” Victor smirked as Tony turned to face him. Those gifted hands settled on his hips, the thumbs stroking his skin under the shirt hem. “Since we established yer against sexbots…”

“Yes, but you’re likely too busy to just hang around as my boy toy all the time.”

Victor stared down at him as the purr threatened to break loose. Those warm brown eyes met his and made his heartbeat thump faster. “That is a damn shame.”

Tony smiled. “Uh-huh.”

“Gonna fuck me now?”

“Let’s … start off by letting me get that project pushed along closer to its deadline, and then head to the gym. We’ll need to hit the showers after that, so we may as well get dirty first.”

Victor huffed out a breath as the man turned away, but didn’t argue. While Tony got back to work, Victor wandered over to look at the displayed armor suits.

 _Always been tough t’ think o’ Tony an’ Iron Man as tha same person. Usually try t’ separate ‘em in my head._ Each of the hunks of metal and tech were silent and still in their separate alcoves. _Bloody things’re like nightmarish reliquaries o’ dead gods._

He knew they were operational – his nose could tell the difference. Supressing a shiver, he moved away and ended up by the weird robot thing. Its base was big, looked heavy, and the rest of it appeared to just be a big crane arm with grabbers for a hand. The other one that Tony had called U was a bit bigger, but not that different – except for the video camera mount.

“Does it talk?” he called behind him.

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Tony had left the desk chair and moved into the middle of the hard light holograms in front of the desk.

“What? Oh – no, it doesn’t. Dum-E can understand you, sort of. I’m not sure how your accent will register. Stick with simple commands for the best results. Tell it to sweep or something, if you want.”

Victor faced it. “Bet ya don’t wanna sweep shit.” Looking around, he spotted a wrench in a toolbox. Setting it on the floor, he kicked it a few feet with a bare foot. “Fetch.”

Tony’s amused voice floated over to him, distracted. “It’s not a dog. Tell it what you want done.”

“Pick up tha wrench. Hand it t’ me.”

Moving on unseen wheels, it went to the wrench. Victor watched, fascinated, as the arm worked. The mechanism was quite a trick. It dropped the tool once, tried again, and then turned and held it out to him in the pinchers. Taking it, he stared at the thing. A pair of rivets near the pincer fingers almost looked like eyes.

“Why’d ya put a face on it?” Victor popped a claw and tapped on the metal of the arm.

“Just a random design thing, not a plan. No claws, huh?”

Victor frowned at it, but he liked it better than the armor or the house computer.

Pulled back to Tony like a moth to a flame, he set the tool down, left the robot, and watched the man move and gesture at his holograms.

He tried to smell the bright blue drawings and diagrams that hung in the air, but they barely had a scent at all. He was reminded of dust motes moving through a warm beam of light. That thought dragged up a strange array of fragmented memories, both soothing and fearsome. Between one breath and the next, he could smell hay, mud, and the sharp tang of blood. Confused, he shook his head to clear it and the ghosts faded away.

Lifting fingers and retracting the claw, he poised them near one of the drawings.

“Don’t … touch that, please.”

“What is it?”

“A design for a rather revolutionary electrosurgical generator.”

“An’ that?”

“Plenum vaporizer.”

“Huh?” he asked, but Tony didn’t reply.Victor frowned a little, bewildered by the answers, but at least Tony was talking to him again. _Shouldn’t be here, though … just gonna end up stuck on ‘im deeper, an’ it won’t change nothin’._

Watching the lines of his body and his profile, scenting him, Victor caught no hint of a mating urge in the man. He was lost in his work.

_Kinda turns int’ somethin’ else when he goes int’ that – can’t tell if it’s more’n human or just less o’ one. He … becomes what he’s doin’. Seen that before – Michel used t’ do it, but I never felt left behind ‘round ‘im. Don’t matter none – bein’ closer t’ Tony makes it easier t’ push tha bad memories away._

Yet it was different than being around his mate so long ago on a level that he felt instinctively. Michel had always known he was there and would often talk or hum as he carved – to comfort him.

Loneliness threatened, even while standing a mere two feet away from the man who had turned his world upside down by letting him in … and allowing him to touch him.

Ashamed by the need he felt and angry at himself for feeling either need or shame, he looked around for a distraction. The workshop around him, so much like a cavern, was far from relaxing and the feeling of being trapped slowly crept back in. He froze when the echo of a flashback struck him, turning the room into a stone laboratory covered by snow. He blinked fast and it shrank down into the cramped trap of the root cellar – quiet and smeared with blood.

He turned his head to see the broken fang hanging on a windshield – its yanked out root exposed. Even as he stared at it, he heard the sound of them hitting between his knees and skating away when kicked by a huge dirty leather boot.

Raising fingers to his lips and fangs, he felt no blood, no gaping holes. There was no smell of stored roots or dried mud on worn wooden steps. Afraid, and abruptly angry again because he knew it was irrational, he drew in a breath and quickly buried the fear and the anger, too.

_Fuckin’ shut it. Don’t show ‘im that. Control it._

He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, Tony was farther away and Victor was surrounded by floating things he didn’t understand. Shutting his eyes again, he saw another quietly absorbed figure – tall and deathly pale.

Cold fingers moved over objects on a table. It looked like a carcass that was being hollowed out, but none of the organs were cut – just moved aside. They were only organs, but the sight chilled him and fear slithered back in. To escape it, he stared beyond and saw his own feet: pale, still … and restrained. The claws were out, but some of them were worn blunt, stained dark with earth and blood. The table was made of stone and had a channel cut in it down one side for the blood to run. It was collected – he wasted nothing.

Swallowing a gasp, his eyes flew open and he turned his head to find Tony. He was touching the floating things as he stood there, quiet and absorbed.

 _Go away…_ he said to the spectre around the inventor.

He shook his head again and fought to see only Tony – the slightly messy hair that looked darker here but was lighter in the sun. A blue light glowed under his t-shirt and it made a sound, a soft endless spinning – the sound that let him sleep without nightmares.

 _Pull back from tha edge – not one bit o’ that shit is real an’ ya know it. Not now, not here – this is Tony’s house. He designed an’ built it. Tony…_ He needed to hear his voice. Forcing his fingers to stop trembling, he pointed to one of the holograms, hoping he would sound normal. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. “What’s this one?”

“Positive pressure atmospheric indicator and control – for the plenum vaporizer.”

That voice – it sank into his head and soothed him, even though he didn’t understand most of what he had said. He didn’t need to. Grasping at it, he clung to the distracted words of the inventor like a man drowning on dry land.

*****************************************************************

“What’s that thing?” the feral asked again, like an immense curious toddler.

Tony stifled a sigh. “It’s another ‘don’t touch it’ thing.”

“Ain’t it just a hologram?”

“Tech – nically…”

“If ya want me t’ bail, I can.”

“No, I don’t want you to go anywhere – at least, not out of the workshop. I have to get this design completed today but when I’m done, I want you un-bailed.”

“So that’s when I get t’ stop hearin’ ‘don’t touch it’?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“I need to concentrate, but I’m closer to done.” The mutant wandered off, looking slightly crestfallen for some reason. When he headed back toward Dum-E, a nagging worry for the robot made him call out, “You’re bored, aren’t you?”

Victor paused. “Sorta…”

“It’s okay, I can be seriously tedious when working – most of these projects aren’t as thrills-a-minute as the armor. Here, come back over – I’ll show you what I’m working on.”

“Don’t gotta do that. I should just let ya work.”

“I’m betting there are things you could be doing besides hanging around bored for hours waiting on when I can be actual company. Since I want you to stay, it’s up to me to make it worth your while.”

“Pepper –”

“It’s her job to worry about stuff like that, right? You know, and I know, that you aren’t here to steal secrets – wrecking my productivity this weekend is as much my fault as yours. On the other hand, it’s hard for me to slow down and smell the roses, so … this has been good for me. Besides, I’d really like your opinion on this one. I know you have your healing factor, so not much experience with surgery, but you must have seen some stuff that I haven’t, and – well, input appreciated.”

Victor looked at him dubiously. “Ain’t gonna be able t’ help ya with yer genius buildin’.”

Tony smiled and beckoned him over. “I promise I won’t ask you to do calculus or anything. It’s your battlefield strategy and logistics experience that I want to pick.”

When Victor stood beside him, Tony began to point at the holograms in the air around them.

“The endgame here is to have a high-tech mobile surgical unit for field doctors that can be kept in reserve and then moved where it’s needed. Basically, a state-of-the-art operating room the troops can be patched up in without having to die waiting for an evac. You said you generally liked the soldiers you’ve served with. Now is this something you’d call worthwhile?”

He watched the mutant as he slowly began to really take in the plans and images around them. Tony suspected that Victor was far more intelligent than anyone thought, and his unique viewpoint of having seen action in so many wars was a resource Tony was itching to benefit from – now that he had remembered to ask.

“How’s it gonna move ‘round?”

“The brass wants me to make it fit on a truck. I argued for tank treads and superior armor. This blueprint,” he moved forward and pointed to a few key sections of the holographic drawing, “is for the system I’m putting in that allows the transport to offload the medical unit and pick up another one, to go back out.”

“While it’s bein’ used?”

“Yes. The big ones like this can handle three patients being operated on. Once it hits capacity, it can be brought to a safer location. The system is similar to how ambulance gurneys work. This way, the evac is the surgical team, and soldiers who would normally die before getting to where the help is – well, their chances go up, hopefully by a lot. For wounded that can wait until they reach regular medical help, they can load up, too – at least ten of them.”

“Def worthwhile. Whattaya need me fer?”

“These things can’t have weapons, they’re hospitals. Some people don’t mind shooting hospitals. I’m debating between more armor and more speed.”

“If’n ‘nuff o’ ‘em are out on tha field, speed ain’t as big a worry. Don’t wait fer one at capacity t’ come in before sendin’ a fresh one out. Put most o’ yer armor on tha bottom – mines an’ other bombs are a bigger prob than bullets. Nowadays, all that Geneva Conventions an’ medical neutrality hoopla, fewer assholes are gonna aim bigger weapons at an über ambulance. Also, it looks top-heavy as all hell – a regular MASH unit on a unicycle. More belly armor’ll keep it upright in all sorts o’ terrain.”

Tony grinned at the holograms. “Excellent, I agree, and points for flair.” He winked at Victor. “Hoopla?”

“It’s fine, I guess – but coulda used ‘em rules before 1949.”

“They had some. The first three treaties were 1864, 1906, and 1929 – only one of which predates you – barely.”

“Nazis didn’t follow ‘em too good, trust me, an’ they weren’t tha only ones.”

Tony felt there was a lot of ugly personal history tucked behind that statement. He almost began to ask about it, but then stopped.

When Victor met his stare, the expression was full of regret and discomfort. “Bet yer homework told ya which side I was on fer that.”

“INTERPOL didn’t have much before your CIA days. SHIELD only had a couple of scraps of paper that old where your name or description showed up – but none of it said why.”

“Had t’, that’s all tha why ya need.”

“I wouldn’t mind more – just a smidge?”

Victor’s eyes narrowed. “Tha few mutants found then were bein’ shipped off t’ tha camps. I spent ‘nuff time as a test subject in Auschwitz t’ fig out I’d do anythin’ t’ get tha hell outta there. No treaty was gonna do me any good.”

“Yikes. SHIELD didn’t have a record of that.”

“What a shock. Those bastards scrambled t’ destroy records once they copped a snap that they were losin’. Nobody talks much ‘bout all tha mutants they killed, neither.”

Tony watched him, studying his reactions. He could empathize with what he was saying – it was horrid – but those scraps of history he had dug out of SHIELD’s files included eyewitness accounts. More than one victim described Victor Creed and mentioned him by name. Their words had painted a gruesome image on the sepia tones of cracked and ragged reports that had been assembled to make a case against him at the Nuremberg trials. Yet the brutal torturer and corpse removal expert, one of the killers at the Babi Yar massacre, had never been found.

Unclenching his jaw, Tony spoke as calmly as he could. “So you joined the Gestapo…”

Victor visibly flinched. “Was put there.”

“This is probably one of those topics you don’t want to discuss.”

“Got it in one.” Victor lifted his chin. “I’m a law o’ tha jungle type o’ fella. Got no prob with hurtin’ some fucker ‘til he talks, if’n ‘is talkin’ is gonna fix somethin’ that needs t’ be fixed. When he talks, tha pain ends – one way or tha other. There’s been worse ghouls throughout history – like the ones that don’t care what ya know or say an’ tha hurt don’t never stop.”

Tony sucked in a breath, his lips setting into a hard line. “I was tortured into making a Jericho missile for a terrorist. I made the Mark I instead.”

“Always preferred t’ play thumbscrews with somebody that earned it – ya never earned that – but I’d rather kill. Don’t like bein’ a two-bit thug. Most often, tha guy givin’ tha orders deserves what he’s dishin’ out more’n tha poor slobs that get it.”

“Your SHIELD file doesn’t have any ‘he only hurts people who deserve it’ notes in the margin.”

“Maybe not. They dunno me, though, an’ ya know what? They ain’t never bothered t’ ask me.”

“I’m asking. What about the women whose only crime was being with Wolverine?”

He expected the mutant to growl and get angry, but Victor was weirdly calm with only the slightest edge to his tone. Tony couldn’t be calm.

“How ‘bout tha women an’ kids yer government ordered me t’ kill, just cuz they lived with a target? Wet works black ops o’ all stripes: CIA, Weapon X Program, Hound Program – most o’ that with complimentary brainwashin’. All but tha last one on that list, tha runt was on tha same team, but ‘im an’ yer holier-than-thou Fury are ol’ pals, ain’t they? War buddies. How ‘bout that?”

“You eat and rape people. You tortured people for fascists who committed genocide, and you maimed innocent victims for them, to force their families to do hideous things. I’m asking, Victor.”

“Yer askin’? Bit late in tha game fer that. I had t’ do what that bastard said.” The large hands curled into fists as the chin lowered. The effect was frightening ... predatory. “Drop it now, cuz I ain’t in a fit state t’ talk ‘bout that shit. If’n ya think ya earned it – not even close.” Victor growled. “Ya knew all o’ that before ya ever lemme touch ya.”

The angry yet cold words held a surprising note of fear in them. They were like icy water dumped over him. Tony folded his arms over his chest and sighed as he stared down at the arc reactor glowing through his Iron Maiden t-shirt. He was screwing up.

“I know, and yes, I knew it all before we – met. Sometimes, I just don’t know what to think. There are things...” Tony winced. _Don_ _’t screw this up, come on!_ “Do you mind – if we skip the gym?”

“Yer call.”

The feral’s body seemed to relax, an illusion of tension rolling from shoulders to feet as the fists opened, but Tony could feel it was a facade. Victor’s mask was back – the chilled poker face that Tony thought he had wormed behind. What was keeping him from walking out was a mystery.

“I – don’t handle casual talk about being pro-torture very well, but your situation was clearly different.”

“Told ya I prefer assassin work – I accept or reject tha contracts, it’s my decision, an’ most are assholes who earn what’s comin. Don’t change tha fact that if I gotta hurt someone t’ protect me an’ mine, they’re fucked. Ya operate tha same way – ya even kill – it just boils down t’ a matter o’ degrees.”

“It does and you’re right, I do. I’m trying to understand. I know a lot of things are instinct for you, and that your nature doesn’t experience them the same way as other people. There’s always a bigger fish, so yeah, I do believe that you’ve been used by people and made to do things.” Tony looked up and met his luminous amber stare. “We both know you do some things simply because you want to. Sometimes it’s hard to reconcile those aspects of you.”

“When ya can’t sleep over it, ask yerself this – why’s tha runt called a hero like ya? Ask Fury how he sleeps at night, knowin’ what he knows ‘bout ‘is stogie an’ booze buddy. He might could give ya some advice. He’s gotta few like that, almost as much blood on their hands as me – they just ain’t lived as long yet t’ really wrack ‘em up. Saint Xavier harbors all manner o’ so-called reformed criminals an’ killers. He’d have me now if only he coulda twisted my brains hard ‘nuff t’ force me t’ obey. Ya gonna ignore that, too?”

“They said he was trying to cure your killing urges.”

“That’s cute. ‘They said’, huh? Who said – ‘is brainless loyal flyin’ monkeys? Tha ones who live in ‘is house an’ eat ‘is food? They weren’t there, an’ neither were ya. Will he try t’ cure lions next? Ya gonna let that mind-witch shackle ya t’ a chair an’ kick ‘is boots through yer head t’ cure yer killin’ urge? Maybe these ‘good men’ ain’t what ya think they are.”

“You went there to get help – with ‘violent blood rages’ that you claimed you couldn’t control on your own. Was that a lie?”

“No, that was tha truth – but Cueball didn’t help me one bit. All he wanted t’ do was own me, subjugate my head t’ use me fer ‘is militant mutant army whims. He tried t’ recruit me once, long before he snared tha runt. I told ‘im t’ go fuck ‘isself. Guess he holds a grudge. He shoulda stuck with tha old ways o’ brainwashin’ – my head’s too messed up fer ‘is methods. Ya gotta look at some ugly shit t’ do it, an’ I don’t think he had tha stomach fer it.”

“The truth is probably somewhere in the middle of both sides.”

“Yeah, sure,” Victor said with a sneer. “Ya need t’ believe that, don’t ya? Ever ask yer daddy how he slept at night after ‘is Manhattan Project work blew Hiroshima an’ Nagasaki offa tha map?”

“Hey! I –” Tony stopped, forced himself to take a deep breath and let it out slow. “I warned you I offend and piss people off. Clearly, you’re an expert at that, too. You’re right, I haven’t earned asking you this stuff – creatively acquired files and stalking aside, we barely know each other. This isn’t a discussion we need to have. Not yet or never, remains to be seen. I wanted you here, still do.”

“Still standin’ here.”

“Okay. Time to de-escalate. Ah ... if you want something to do while I work on getting to my next deadline, we could … figure something out. I’m almost there.”

“What’s up with that?”

Tony looked beyond him to see what he was pointing at. Surrounded by equipment that would make any mechanic blush with lust, a black 1930 Mercedes-Benz SSK Count Trossi was crouching on the pad.

 _The Trossi, in fact – one of a kind._ “That’s my next relaxing project – refurbishing the engine. Not a major endeavor, it’s in pretty decent shape.”

“I know my way ‘round a toolbox.”

Tony nodded once, relieved to have the sparks tamped down. “Have at it. You have to impress me, though – find out what has to be done on your own.”

“Challenge accepted.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“Yup.”

“Who was it made for?”

“Italian racer Count Carlo Felice Trossi. Maybe four or five SSK originals left, only one that looks like that.”

Tony made a grand ‘proceed sir’ gesture. “That’s a good start on impressing me.” As Victor moved away, Tony let a held breath go in a determined huff. “Victor?”

“Yeah?” He glanced back over his shoulder.

“Once I get to a stopping place over here, I’d like to work on it with you. It’d be fun, and I really do need to learn to relax more.”

“Yup, ya do,” he replied, and kept going.

“Tunes?”

“Sure.”

“The eclectic mechanic mix, JARVIS.”

“Yes, sir.”

As Van Halen’s _Panama_ started up, Tony watched for a moment as Victor opened the butterfly hood of the priceless car with both care and respect.

_Well, that nearly went south, thus proving Hank’s point that teaching Victor a thing or two may be a bigger challenge than I anticipated. He practically speaks in riddles, so there’s no telling what damage I was stomping over. I got triggered again … just at the mention of torture, blindsided – and this little side project could have blown up in my face. I think he was starting to trust me? Damn it!_

He got back to work to even out and began to add more armor to the undercarriage of his mobile surgical unit transport.

_I’m nowhere near having all of the information about how and why he is what he is. I refuse to fall into the trap of judging him by my own experiences. Who knows, maybe he got triggered, too; he was pretty zoned out before. I wonder which bastard he meant? Even in the Nazi crowd, it’s hard to imagine anyone could hold Victor under their thumb without the brainwashing tricks others used._

Regret and worry deviled him. He had known all of that ugly history prior to the tent out on the frozen ocean – it was a chief reason he had never even tried to be civil on the phone. Victor had proven in the Arctic Circle that there was more to him than what the files had to say. Hank McCoy had tried to explain other aspects of the Victor Creed conundrum. Yet his growing addiction to sex with the feral had been ignoring all of that, even the fact of what Victor had done to him in Chicago.

_Based on Hank’s assessment, was that instinct and not malice? Probably. Although the effort to hide who he was implies he knew it was wrong on some level. Either way, the murder of the guy I went upstairs with was twisted._

They remained firmly on opposite sides of the moral fence, and his hero convictions represented a threat to Victor – a risk the feral was ignoring while blinded by his stalker crush.

_What a pair we make. He did have one hell of a point about the government – mine no less – being behind some of his more heinous crimes. One thing is sure – he is living proof why I keep those bastards at arm’s length where my tech is concerned._

~ ~ ~

Tony flagged the finished design to be accessible only to himself and Pepper, and then had JARVIS ask her to come downstairs. For some reason, she was carrying a pair of laptops when she arrived, and one of them looked like it had returned from war.

Pepper glanced at Victor, who was starting to look rather fetching in engine grease. Tony followed her gaze because it was worth an extra look.

“These are my mother’s, you said you could salvage the files from the crunched one? She keeps asking. What did you need?”

“I need Rhodey – ah, not now, definitely not now. Can we find a spot early next week? The surgical pod and transport designs are done and ready for him to peruse.”

“Okay, yes. Maybe SHIELD, too?”

“If Fury is good, he can order some too, but he has to quit sneaking into my house in the middle of the night to tell me bedtime stories.”

“Right. I’ll call Agent Coulson instead.”

“Sounds like a party – count me in.”

“What about this?” She held out the laptops.

“I have to finish my notes on the transport. Leave them here and I’ll get there later.”

“If I do that, they’ll end up buried. I promised I wouldn’t let them out of my sight.”

“Hey, ask Victor – despite being the reigning King of the Jungle, he’s surprisingly tech savvy.”

Lowering her voice, she leaned in and murmured to him, “Alarmingly, you mean.”

Tony winked at her. “He could hear you from the other end of the workshop, let alone from right over there. Play nice?”

She shot him a wary look. “Don’t include me in your little social experiments – or whatever you’re doing.”

“Keep in mind? Without him deciding to do something about it, neither of us might be here.” Tony was painfully aware that he needed the reminder, too. _I hope you are listening, Victor. This is me apologizing._ “I would be six feet under or body-not-recovered. My suit would be in the hands of Hydra, or on the black market. Briefly, anyway.”

“Tony...” she fussed, almost turning his name into a plea. It was adorable.

“I dug out my connection kit after you asked the first time. It’s right over there on that table – perfect spot for the surgery.”

Pepper sighed. “The last time we spoke, I called him a criminal. Got any ice breaking advice for me?”

“Fortune favors the brave. He is a criminal, that shouldn’t offend him. Off you go – make a new friend.” Tony went back to sit in his desk chair but couldn’t resist glancing up to witness the exchange.

Pepper set the laptops down next to the connection kit first. She was tall, but they both looked like kids around the mutant. She turned to watch him as he stuffed an oily rag in the back pocket of his jeans and continued to tinker with the engine.

“Victor, would you mind helping me? I can’t get the hard drive out and I need to salvage what’s on it.”

He straightened and grabbed the rag again, wiping off his fingers as he studied her. “Sure. It’s scrap otherwise, right?”

“Yes.”

Victor ignored her wince as a single claw popped, cutting its way out of his fingertip. Without hesitation and knowing exactly where to start, he sliced into the damaged laptop and cut it away from the hard drive as easily as taking the crust off bread.

Tony smiled as he watched, not at all surprised that the feral didn’t need to ask what to do or how to use the connection kit. The claw retracted and Pepper watched it, probably hiding a shudder.

Victor opened and started up the new laptop, connected the old hard drive so that it would be seen as an external drive, and a few taps later, it was good to go. “Everythin’ or just documents an’ photos? Need tha programs?”

“No, just documents and photos – and that.”

A few more taps sounded on the new machine, and then the transfer must have started because Pepper looked relieved.

Victor waited it out patiently rather than handing it off to her to finish. “What’d ya do t’ it?”

“My mother dropped it – on concrete, from the top of the grill. It’s hers. The motherboard was damaged – instant brick.”

“Bloody thorough destruction skills – SHIELD should put ‘er on tha payroll.” When it finished, he unhooked everything and stepped away. “Check it, then incinerate tha scraps.”

“Thank you,” she said, surprised.

Victor nodded once before turning back to the car. “Yer welcome.”

Tony watched Pepper carry the new laptop upstairs after dropping the carved hunks into the workshop incinerator. He hadn’t shown it to him – the feral must have known it was there by scent.

He observed Victor from across the room, knowing the man was aware of it, though he behaved as if he hadn’t noticed.

 _Why do I feel like I’m back at square one? I scrap with Rhodey now and then, but we give each other hell and move on, been doing it for years…_ Tony snorted, annoyed with himself. His people skills were remedial at best. _Rhodey and I worked on it. My total time spent with the pointy furball adds up to a laughably measly fraction of that. Most of it was spent having sex, too – not talking to him. I have a million questions, Victor ... and now is not the time._ He rose and headed over.  _Fortune favors the brave._ “Well, you obviously knew what it needed. Can I play?”

“It’s yer sandbox.”

Tony picked up a wrench and smiled at all of the grease smears here and there on his guest.

 _Yeah, he can be a spooky guy, but that is sexy as all hell._ Not pausing to question the morality or sense of it, he knew he had a strategy in mind for this mess. _There is one proven way through the feral minefield – get him on his back or hands and knees, and turn that frown upside down._

As another song wrapped up, Victor glanced at him over the engine before looking down again. “Ya got John Fogerty’s _Hot Rod Heart_?”

“JARVIS, get me that – add it in.” The song began and Tony grinned. “Teach me your wisdom – or bring in your CDs and let me pillage them.”

That got him a smirk at least. Tony settled in to work on the car with him. After a while, they started talking a bit about what they were doing and Victor finally began to thaw.

“How’d ya get yer mits on this ride? That Ralph Lauren guy had it last.”

“Wheels and deals. His wife, Ricky Anne, really wanted a series of paintings I owned.”

Victor worked quietly before asking, “Ya like t’ race cars?”

“I do – I want to enter a car in the Monaco Grand Prix this spring, but Pepper is still arguing about not wanting me to drive it in the race. What’s the point of owning a Formula One car if you just sip a cocktail and watch someone else drive it?”

“She acts like a wife, not an assistant.”

“I occasionally do dumb things. She has to pick up the pieces. I’ve learned that whether or not I listen to her advice, I often regret it when I don’t take it. It’s educational.” Tony shrugged. “She’s also great at teaching me how to deal with people, how to talk to them. When I listen.”

“Yeah, I got some folks that’re good fer that.”

“Do you ever go to any of the big Grand Prix races?”

“Naw, too high profile an’ too much law crawlin’ ‘round all over. They can’t fig out how t’ cage or kill me, but lotsa ‘em like t’ try – just fer tha braggin’ rights, it seems ... if’n they live t’ tell tha tale.”

“What do you like to do for fun? Besides killing, hunting, and sex – or stalking me.”

“That don’t leave much.” The mutant glanced up and winked at him, making Tony chuckle. “Drivin’ fancy cars works fer me same as ya. I like readin’, movies, an’ carpentry. I try t’ relax, usually offa tha map, sometimes in fancy digs. Once in a great while, I might could hook up with old pals, if’n tha caper they wanna pull ain’t too stupid.”

“Are we talking about the mutant political terrorists called the Brotherhood? I would have pegged you as non-political. Is ... Mystique in that crowd?”

Ignoring the first question, he answered the second. “Here an’ there. Me an’ ‘er are at each other’s throats a lot.” Victor whistled appreciatively. “When we ain’t ... what a ride. Ya gotta lot in common – she picks a mission over sex, too.”

“So are you currently off or on? Where did you last hook up?”

“Been a while. Madripoor, I guess. If’n ya ain’t never had a metamorph, don’t miss tha chance – nothin’ in tha world like it. She can morph a dick t’ stab ya with while yer stickin’ ‘er in tha twat.”

“I’ll, uh, keep that in mind. There’s more than one of them?”

“Dicks? Yup, anythin’ goes. She fucked me with two at once last time we painted tha town.”

“Ow. More than one metamorph.”

“Probly lotsa ‘em. Technically, gettin’ stuffed by me, ya already been stretched ‘nuff t’ handle it; yer impressively … pliant.”

Tony was grateful when Victor looked away to ply his screwdriver, maybe missing the frustration he was trying to hide behind a charming smile.

 _Not that he would miss the whiff of anxiety. Damn ferals. Is he lying about seeing her last not long ago in Chicago? Hank said Victor claimed to tell the truth most of the time, unless there was something he really needed to hide. Or, maybe that wasn’t Mystique at all? Anyone that good at being me, I’d like to know who they are._ Tony saw Victor glance at him again and this time he looked unsettled by his silence. _Drop it, before he sours again. Chicago can wait. You can’t help him learn useful things if you drive him away. Reel him back in._

The music changed to a sultry R&B tune – the immortal Patti LaBelle. Tony smiled and began to clean his fingers with a rag as _Lady Marmalade_ geared up to make his objective easier.

_Is it fate or JARVIS meddling in my favor? Gift horse and mouth. This ploy may count as cheesy, but sometimes success trumps originality and flair. Besides, the last time we fucked while he was angry… I’ve never had it so good._

He set the wrench down and moved closer around the front of the car to the right side where Victor was, under the pretense of checking one of the triple exhaust tubing connections. He had thought he was being covert, but then he heard the purr spark up.

Deciding he was grateful for that encouraging response – at least it meant he was still interested – he got started on setting the mood.

“So, since you used to crawl all over Storyville back in the day, do you know what ‘Gitchi yaya dada’ means? It sounds like nonsense to most people and it isn’t French.”

“Old slang o’ New Orleans prostitutes. Meant, ‘Get yer sex, daddy’, when they tried t’ solicit men on tha street.”

“Did they have to try very hard?”

“Not t’ get me. I’m easy.” He leaned down to tighten a bolt.

Tony came up behind Victor and whispered in his ear as Patti crooned it around them, “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?”

Victor shivered and seemed to freeze and melt at once. Tony put his hands on him and knew by the way he responded that he had been waiting, nervous and wanting. The stunning body shifted and twined into the touches while barely moving at all, becoming putty in his hands so fast that Tony nearly hesitated in taking the reins.

He felt a rush of excitement skitter through him just like that first flight in the Mark II suit: climbing beyond reason, breaking forming ice with his fists, plummeting to earth only to soar again. In his hands, a lethal and powerful being was strung taut – hungering for whatever he wanted to do to him. In their heat, the brief fight was ignited and burned to cinders, yet the memory of it still colored the tension between them – intensifying that heat.

Victor seemed unable to speak but he didn’t need to. One look in those amber eyes, pupils blown wide, and Tony knew that all of that brutal force, cunning intellect, and consuming lust was his to control – to shape or use however he saw fit.

“On your back,” he urged, “be naked by the time you get there.”

Pulling off his clothes fast, he watched Victor strip. He was shocked that the feral managed it without shredding the clothes. Those eyes still watched him, the body eager and malleable, and the rush overtook him again.

 _This is crazy, but fucking look at him! Taking him like this, pushing him under me, pushing into him ... damn!_ Tony slapped one of the gorgeously muscled thick thighs. “Open up, Victor.”

When he settled on his knees between the thighs, he stuffed and wormed two fingers up the vice of the mutant’s ass just to hear the grunt chased by a groan. One crook of them and a rub across where the prostate was hidden made Victor twitch and growl with lust. He had to work at it to thrust and play as anticipation shunted his brain into hyperfocus and sharpened his lust.

Tony stared at the heavy cock as the foreskin pulled back and the head started to drip clear slick on thick rolling muscles and hackled fur.

His free hand cupped the head roughly, squeezing more pre-cum from it. The amount of it was a surprise. Grinning fiercely, he used the natural lubricant to pump, stroke, and ready himself. Punching through that muscle as fast and hard as he wanted to, 0 to 60, wasn’t easy.

Victor liked pain, a fact that Tony tried not to analyze too deeply – but since he did like it... Before yanking his fingers free, he used them to stab the sensitive prostate. His blood jumped through his veins at the sight of the feral arching his back off the floor. The roar and snap of teeth was a shock – yet it only made both of them harder.

 _Pain and, oddly enough, French. I hope he knows the newer idioms, or ‘I’m going to send you into the air’ is going to sound like ‘launch you into space’. Here goes..._ “Je vais vous envoyer en l’air.”

With a broken moan that was hot as hell to hear, Victor pushed down with clawed bare feet to shove his hips up off the floor.

Tony took the offering without hesitation and stabbed inside his body, using a fast grip on thick thighs to keep moving forward until he was buried to the root.

Victor arched higher and it was a fight to stay on. Some of the mutant’s weight was abruptly supported by his head and Tony stared, watching the tendons stretch in that glorious throat, the Adam’s apple warring with the dual hyoid bones as he swallowed and groaned.

_Maybe he took the idiom literally after all. Oh, well – cloud nine awaits, Mr. Fluffy._

Tony was too late to save the concrete floor after Victor threw his arms wide and gouged it with deep claw marks. One of them snagged on the steel edge of a toolbox and cut it just as easily.

Getting a solid grip on one powerful but trembling thigh, Tony scratched the fur on the outside of it before yanking his hips back, pulling out completely. The noise the mutant made was almost a word. The growly slur of it got Tony smirking, pleased with himself, but he had no idea what he had said.

 _One thrust shoved deep and he reacts more passionately than Brazil did through the whole sackfest. Victor Creed – the cure for twink addiction._ “You want more?”

“More...”

The rasped word was nested in growls that could be difficult to interpret. He would have to rely on body language, but there was no doubt that this was wanted.

He released him and leaned back. “Give me the flipside – down on your belly.” When he obeyed, to keep him wound up, Tony gave the back of the other thigh a sharp smack. “Move this up.”

As if he planned to cheat on push-ups with one knee on the floor, Tony moved over him. He had to grip his cock at this angle to aim it, but this time he intended to be as merciless through to the end as he could.

Victor hissed – a long and freaky noise – as he shoved back inside him. Tony found himself craving the sight of the hunched and tight shoulders and back. He had to shift to see it, but the mutant had dropped his powerful lower jaw and twin ropes of saliva dripped down to the concrete. The vicious claws were turning his floor into a scored and gravel-scattered mess.

“Holy shit, you feel so damn good... You are mine, you hear me?”

“Tony ... please...”

He wasn’t tall enough to bite the back of the feral’s neck while fucking him, so he used fingers. His blunt and slightly still manicured nails dug in and turned Victor into a bull with a bucking strap. When he gouged harder, the instinctual resistance stopped.

“Mine,” he repeated, his tone low and commanding.

Victor shuddered as Tony kissed his shoulder blade. Everything felt good, enough to make his non-stop brain slow to a lust-scorched crawl.

Angling his hips on the pull back, he landed a hard smack on Victor’s ass to see if it could startle him into tightening down harder inside. It worked, and he nearly couldn’t breathe it cinched so tight.

“Keep still. Don’t come.”

“Can’t –”

His free hand stroked down the erect hackles over the spine before gripping a handful of it possessively. Whispering as he thrust, he told him, “You can, because it’s what I want. You want to please me – don’t you?”

The body under him shuddered again. “Yes...”

“Yeah. That’s right.” He wouldn’t be able to hold off for long, but every stroke was a mind-blowing power trip and he didn’t want it to end.

*****************************************************************

_Mine … mine … mine…_

Victor’s stomach swooped as his head filled with white noise. The sharp strike on his ass had startled him, Tony hadn’t done that before, but it instantly unraveled him almost as utterly as the grip on the back of his neck and the commanding possessive claim.

He couldn’t control his claws. Obeying him and struggling not to come was almost painful, but it felt so good as he endured the rough thrusts. With one knee raised higher where Tony wanted it, his hips were at an angle that gave his leaking cock plenty of room to rub across the cold concrete every time the cock inside him moved his body. The fear that he might blow before he was told – that felt good, too.

The blunt little fingernails still gripped the back of his neck. It had driven the beast within mad at first, but then Tony had spoken again, said it again.

_Mine._

He had felt it break almost gently inside – that ruthless will – as it folded around the word and went limp and calm underneath it, dominated and claimed. He listened to the sounds of pleasure Tony made over him, tried to feel every nerve ending as he thrust. Pleasure coiled, threatened to make him disobey. A dimly familiar fear coiled with it, that if he disobeyed, Tony might be disappointed ... and not want him anymore.

Struggling to speak, he whispered, “Need it… Please, Tony…”

The free hand stroked his hackles again, the fingers tugging the fur here and there. Pleasure skittered over his skin with every tug.

“Yes, Victor – come for me.”

He gasped as it burst and spilled. The pleasure didn’t stop as he was bred by his mate. He tried to keep still, not wanting to fight it. He wanted it more than breath.

Tony came inside him and as he continued to thrust through it, Victor’s pleasure built again … and burst again.

The snarl couldn’t be stifled before it was heard, but his mate had pulled out of him and he wasn’t ready, he wanted more.

Tony moved up his back, lying on top of him. The hand gripping his neck released. When the mouth replaced it, blunt little teeth digging in, trying to mark him, he moaned.

That voice whispered over the wet skin as the brief bruises healed, “Tu es à moi.”

 _Tu es à moi._ The French words eclipsed time in his senses. Only the voice and the inflection had changed. Victor had changed so much between them. Tony’s first time proclaiming it echoed in his head: _‘You are mine.’_

He was bitten again, harder, and a few of the teeth broke the skin. The bite healed instantly, almost before he could feel it, but in that same instant, he came again.

“Victor…” Lips kissed where the bite had been. “You are stunning.”

Groaning, his knee scraped on the concrete, the claws gouging into slices they had made before and cutting them deeper.

“Don’t collapse?” He heard the voice as if from a distance. “Here, roll this way, to your back. Rest and breathe.”

Victor rolled, guided by the hands. Once on his back, he kept his eyes closed as fear seeped in, insidious and cold.

 _He’ll retreat again…_ Emptiness opened up as if it meant to swallow him whole. He wanted to go back to those words and never leave them. He wanted them to be real.

“Are you okay? Victor?” The hands touched him, one of them stroking his chest, the other settling over his spent cock. “Um … did you come three times?” Tony settled at his side, the hand petting down his chest and over furry abs that were growing tacky with cum. “Talk to me…”

He rolled again, curling on his side with his cheek on Tony’s thigh. Careful of fangs and claws, he loosely wrapped his arms around the man’s waist and let his hair partially hide his face.

Tony fell silent, his hands hesitating before they began to caress his back and arm. They were quiet for a while, and Victor tried to haul himself back from the edge again, but this time he knew he’d gone over it. The claws retracted slowly as he stilled and worked to make his breathing even.

“Victor? I’m … a little worried about you.” Those gifted fingers reached up and brushed the hair out of his face.

Opening his eyes a little, he watched the warm brown eyes that were watching him. He coughed once and then whispered, “I’m okay.”

“It seems silly to ask if you enjoyed that, but I’m not sure you are okay. Look, it’s fine if you’re not. I want you to feel you can trust me. I don’t know what I’m doing; I’m just trying to figure out what you might like and taking a gamble that what you like to do to me fits that bill. Honestly, if something in the mix threw you, let me know so I don’t do it again? Or, if you liked it all but it still threw you … I need to know.”

“Did … ya mean it?”

“Mean what? Which part?”

Victor couldn’t stop the short low growl that escaped, but it died fast. Shifting as far as he could without piercing him with a fang, he hid his face again. “Nothin’. Don’t matter none.”

“No, tell me. Come on … try.”

The petting resumed. It felt good. Breathing deep, he smelled a fire in a stone hearth. Leaves and pine needles were dusted over the deerskins that covered the dirt floor. _Show me_ , his mate’s voice echoed. If he couldn’t speak to say why he was upset, he had to show him. There was no pantomime for this, nowhere to point to a wound that had healed long ago. This was the wound that never healed. _He’s gone, an’ Tony don’t know … what he’s doin’ – or sayin’._

Victor twitched when Tony picked up the carved bone beads onto his fingers, careful not to tug at the hair that was threaded and tied around them. When his fingertip stroked along the carvings of white roses and black ravens, Victor could almost feel it in his Adamantium-caged bones.

“This is about him, isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question, and Victor couldn’t answer. “I remind you of him, somehow, and that made this intense for you – a lot. I’m not sure what has upset you, but I’m sorry. I hope this is okay, but … I am happy you trust me enough for this. I’ll trade you. Sometimes … I come down here and I can’t work, I can’t think. I look at my dad’s memorabilia and then I get rot stinking drunk. Weirdest thing is, and maybe it was just the booze, but once … I could swear Dum-E was trying to comfort me. I fell on my ass, I was curled in a ball against a wall, and I felt the arm reach down. I grabbed it and held on, and cried. I didn’t have anyone else – no one I would show that to.”

Victor turned his head just enough to meet his gaze. Tony smiled softly and winked at him.

“I’ll deny it if you tell anyone.” Letting the beads roll off his palm, his fingers stroked the sideburn. “This is safe with me. I won’t hurt you. Okay?”

Watching his eyes and seeing no lie hiding there, Victor nodded slightly. He took deeper breaths and stirred and Tony leaned back to let him up. Sitting up, he batted the braid to his back and slumped with his hands on his thighs. Looking over at the mess his claws had made, he sighed.

“Don’t worry about that; concrete is easy to fix.” When he leaned forward to kiss him, Victor allowed it, but it was difficult to respond. “Let’s go upstairs and have a nap before dinner.”

Tony rose but didn’t dress. He grabbed his clothes and tennis shoes and wadded them up to carry them. Victor didn’t question it and did the same. If Pepper got a show, he didn’t care.

“Up we go,” Tony told him as they got through the security door. “Watch the stairs if you’re woozy, remember. I can’t catch you.”

Victor followed him up the odd floating concrete stairs as if he was being led by a string. Pepper was nowhere to be seen, but he could still scent her in the house.

“I’m not sure you understood the other idiom, but here’s another: grimper aux rideaux, French for ‘to climb the curtain’, but it can be translated as ‘hit the roof’ or ‘to blow the mind’. JARVIS, how would starched British guys say it?”

“To perform exceedingly well between the sheets – sir.”

“Exactly. Victor, even without sheets, you are probably the best time I’ve ever had – sober or drunk.” Tony seemed to accept Victor’s silence – or maybe he didn’t notice it. “I vote shower first. Among other messes, we are fetchingly smeared with engine grease. Also, I can’t go more than twenty-four hours without one, or I start to twitch.”

Victor knew he was going through the motions and Tony seemed willing to let him. He wrapped the braid into a bun and tied it up for the shower, and when Tony led him to bed, he went. Curling up when he settled for a nap, he breathed more easily when Tony cuddled into his back.

“Do you just want to sleep? If you need it –”

“No,” Victor interrupted him. _T’morrow’s Monday an’ that’s it._ “A nap. Wake me if’n I don’t…?”

“I will. I want to make the most of our time.” Tony called out, “JARVIS, give us an hour and then wake me up. Gently, please.”

“Certainly, sir.”

Victor didn’t know if he could sleep. He was scenting things that weren’t there, but they were good memories and alongside them was the comforting scent and sound of his lover.

 _‘You are mine’,_ Tony had said, but he didn’t understand what it meant, what he had done. To him, it was just sex talk. Victor focused on the rich soothing scents of a log cabin surrounded by a forest in autumn. His mate was there, the heavy weight of him moving over the body of the slender feral he hadn’t been in many, many years. The teeth had bitten the back of his neck as they mated. Afterward, the voice of his mate, full of sleep, had murmured in his ear, ‘ _Tu es à moi.’_

Feeling the warmth of the body at his back, he listened to the ghostly sound of mechanical spinning that thrummed through the cabin. He began to drift to sleep as the fire settled into embers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Dum-E, and after reading the Stony fic "Run Program: DUM-E" by Amuly (findable on AO3, bookmarked by me), I love that robot even more. Question for my fellow Tony Stark and Dum-E fans – most of us seem to think of the robot as a “him”, but does Tony ever say “him”? I haven’t found it in the movies, if he does. I figured Tony might be too practical to consider a robot to be male, so I have him say “it” when talking to Victor. 
> 
> The waking nightmares in the workshop were some of Victor’s resurfacing ugly memories that Professor Xavier dredged up during Victor’s captivity. The pale tall figure is Sinister, of course. In the comics "Origins II", Sinister performed exploratory surgeries on Logan while he was awake. He would have done the same when he had Victor in his clutches. More details about Victor’s trials in World War II show up way back in my "Redemption" fic. Most people know that the Lady Marmalade line in French, “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?” means “Do you want to sleep with me tonight?” Using that probably was cheesy, but most will agree that Tony can be super cheesy at times. I think it’s adorable when he is. Tony’s French come-on, “Je vais vous envoyer en l’air” means “I am going to send you into the air”. It is an idiom meaning something like “take you to Heaven”. “Tu es à moi” as mentioned in the story, means “You’re mine”. I have no idea if this phrase would have changed between the late 1800s and present day. I hope I typed the French correctly. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic)


	6. A Lie like a Lullaby

Give me purity, strength and affection  
give me lust to ignite my devotion for life  
It’s where beauty comes alive

Can’t you see I’m a slave to the darkness  
Cutting down, and I know I have done this before  
as I stare into the wall  
and now it’s time to let it shine  
cause don’t you know I’m addicted

Massive addictive  
and suddenly I’m greatly affected  
like burning fire inside  
my cyanide  
scared of losing my mind  
Massive addictive  
I’m totally completely afflicted  
as I inspire the lie like a lullaby  
crawling around in my mind, my mind

Unremitting demand of my hunger  
Time stands still as I am losing the grip of it all  
like a thousand times before

Give me antidotes, constant removers  
Make an instant deductive denial in vain  
cause I always stay the same  
and now it’s time to be reborn  
although I know it’s addictive

It’s massive destruction  
Combination of glory and hope  
a schematic affliction  
of a feeling inside what I swore

Massive addictive  
and suddenly I’m greatly affected  
like burning fire inside  
my cyanide  
scared of losing my mind  
Massive addictive  
I’m totally completely afflicted  
as I inspire the lie like a lullaby  
crawling around in my mind, my mind  
Massive Addictive

~ Massive Addictive (Amaranthe)

*****************************************************************

Victor woke, slow and sluggish – a sure sign of the havoc that still tangled in mind and heart. If he had been on his own turf with time to kill, he would probably have opted to roll and go back to sleep … maybe for days.

Tony’s soft voice telling the house to speak more quietly had woken him. It was still a shock to be in the same room, let alone the same bed. Opening his eyes to see the inventor, he was struck all over again by how beautiful he was.

_This could be a bad one…_

“Feeling a little better?”

He wanted to say no and tell the man how ripped apart and adrift he felt, but wild horses couldn’t drag the weak bitch words from his lips. Stung pride wouldn’t even surface to save him with a mask of arrogant indifference. He turned his head away to the window, but it was still dimmed.

“M’fine,” he muttered. “Should check my phone – stuff comes up.”

“Except that you already told Obinata you were here until Monday morning. Check it later.”

Rolling to his side, he faced a familiar expression. _Twenty Questions, incomin’._ Frowning, Victor sighed. _This is clearly Hell._ _Time t’ pull yer head outta yer ass. Yank ‘em bootstraps up._ “Ya got Curious George face – shoot, Chatty Cathy.”

Chuckling, Tony rolled onto his side and propped his head up on his palm. “I wanted to ask … how did you beat that blood rages problem? It had to be bad, or you wouldn’t have decided on such an extreme choice to try to fix it. You said Xavier didn’t help – I believe you. What helped?”

Victor growled at the memory. “Tha runt stabbed a claw through my brain – startin’ from right here.” He reached and set a knuckle under Tony’s chin. “Went straight through, up in there – like shish kebab … claw lobotomy.”

Tony shivered and stared back at him in shock as he moved his hand away. “I may have to stop wondering why you hate him so much. Why did he do that?”

“I was threatenin’ t’ get loose an’ kill anybody I found: men, women, kids…” He looked away again, staring at the ugly scrambled Pollock painting. It likely resembled his addled brains. “I had t’ stop what was bein’ done t’ me. Knew that’d make ‘im fight me, only reason I said it. He set that fist there, an’ I goaded ‘im t’ do it.”

“They never told me that. Prior to Adamantium on your skull, then. Did you think it would kill you?”

“Didn’t much care.”

Tony frowned. “Then Xavier certainly did cross a line. Irresponsible to leave you locked up with only your nemesis on watch, too.”

“I called it an opportunity; tha rest o’ ‘em are gutless. Knew tha runt would throw down.”

“That’s exactly why it was irresponsible.”

He looked back at Tony. “That claw turned my brain t’ mush, but it came with a handy advantage – telepaths can’t get in now.” He tapped his temple as a forced smirk stretched his lips. “Those bastards are probly plenty upset they can’t make me their ass puppet no more.”

“Define ‘mush’.”

“I was told I started out straight-up feral, but like a big kitten, no real aggression. That tells me tha inner beastie didn’t remember squat, neither, if’n he didn’t know people were a threat. Later, healed ‘nuff t’ start talkin’ again, able t’ stand ‘steada movin’ like a critter. Still didn’t remember nothin’.”

Even now, Victor could feel that old confusion and the curse of the false peace twisted his guts all over again. No memories had remained of the root cellar, the axe, the pliers, or his pa’s abuse. Sensory memory had been wiped clean – of his mate’s death, or the tortures of scientists who saw him as subhuman, worse than an animal. He twitched when Tony’s stare came into focus again and dropped his gaze.

“Victor, tell me. It’s safe to tell me, if … if you need that.”

Swallowing hard, he whispered, “From things said ‘round me then, I remember that shit later, I grasped that Xavier never tried t’ get back in. When I got out, they were shocked they couldn’t control my mind, so I know he never tried. I was damaged goods. He had no use fer a timid kitten.”

“Full hardware reboot...” Tony mused, frowning again. “Ugh. What did they do with you after that, considering you were attacked and injured by your guard while in their custody?”

“They locked me up in their fuckin’ Danger Room an’ ran a jungle program t’ keep tha mental invalid beast occupied.” Victor sighed. “Guards, plural – that half-wit Caliban an’ tha Cajun both got their licks in.”

“What did they do?”

Victor growled. “Caliban broke my back in a sewer once, left me t’ drown – but in my cell, he up an’ decided t’ maul me one mornin’ while I was mentally a kid an’ couldn’t fight back. He was wearin’ a hero label at tha time – they all were.”

“They didn’t stop him?”

“Sailin’ in after it got bad hardly counts in my view – why was he able t’ get in there? That bastard ain’t got ‘nuff brains t’ work a padlock, let alone fancy Shi’ar tech. I always thought he had help – maybe from tha coonass.”

“The Cajun is Gambit, right? Remy LeBeau.”

“Yup. LeBeau made it a regular date, tryin’ t’ beat me int’ rememberin’ crap I did so’s he could wail on me fer it more. Tha Weather Witch caught ‘im at it an’ wrecked ‘is fun. He probly sped up my memory recovery.”

“Geez. Trying to upstage the Stanford Prison Experiment is not a goal to aim at. So even after the claw left you harmed but harmless, they still just kept you locked up, barely had you monitored by anyone responsible for a prisoner’s rights, and didn’t even try to treat what Logan did to you?”

“They didn’t have a clue what t’ do with me, an’ maybe they saw it as a fix an’ left it at that.”

“That’s hardly a fix for you. I’m surprised Xavier didn’t try to put an asymmetric backdoor in your head while you were ‘down’, essentially.”

Victor glanced up at him with a frown. “Cueball knew my inner beastie was in tha driver’s seat, kitten or not, an’ I fig tha bastard also knew he didn’t have tha stones t’ take on that fight. A telepath that used t’ work fer me said tha rougher tha brains, tha tougher it is t’ mess with ‘em. ‘Sides, like I said – he had no time fer me if’n I wasn’t a warrior he could use fer ‘is li’l mutant guerrilla revolution.”

“Yes, but humor me – if your brain was mid-reboot, technically, your memories and personality may have been offline and inaccessible for further creeper invasions.”

“Ya remember I ain’t a robot, right?”

“Of course, sorry – I just mean we don’t know whether or not there was nothing there to manipulate, or if it was a weakness he didn’t try to exploit. The issue of not being able to enter your mind could have developed later, as the healing progressed.”

“Dunno, but there ain’t no shortage o’ assholes who think I got zip but cobwebs an’ refuse in my head.”

“For the record, I’m not one of those. To be fair, the list of people who think I’m an asshole is both lengthy and distinguished, but I don’t think you’re stupid. I got over assuming that rather early on. How did you escape, initially – how did it start?”

“Once I healed ‘nuff t’ remember who an’ what I was, I taunted one o’ tha junior squad, who also used t’ sneak int’ my cage, t’ trick ‘er int’ blowin’ up my restraints so’s I could escape.”

Tony’s smile slipped away and the focused stare was back. “You went through Psylocke to do it.”

“Ninja bitch got between me an’ tha door. Had t’ get away. What that freak Xavier was doin’ … was sick. Wasn’t gonna go back t’ that, told ‘er I’d rather die first. Anythin’ standin’ between me an’ freedom was fucked.”

“Did you ever try to tell anyone what was being done to you?”

“No point. Those assholes worship that bastard.”

“I would wager, even if he was aware of what he was doing, the others weren’t. You might have had at least one or two allies if they knew.”

“Didn’t care – couldn’t trust ‘em, any o’ ‘em.”

“But Victor, you needed help, you went there to get that – some of them might have been willing to listen to you, and to help.”

Victor stared down at the white expensive sheet. _Don’t wanna see disgust on that pretty face, or worse … pity._ “They all think I’m a liar, that I’m garbage; weren’t never shy ‘bout tellin’ me so. Couldn’t risk trustin’...” His voice dropped to a murmur. “Had t’ ... get out.”

“Okay … I understand. Gutting a woman who thought she was protecting her people isn’t something I can get behind, but … I understand that desperation.”

“We scrapped before, ‘er an’ me – she stuck that psi-blade in my head an’ turned me int’ a brainless prisoner lotsa times. Ain’t no ‘prisoner rights’ with Cueball’s flyin’ monkeys.”

The hand that came up to gently cup his cheek nearly melted him. His hands weren’t entirely smooth or soft, though. There were calluses, fine scars, and little burn marks – the hands of a master craftsman. Victor pressed into the touch and the fingers stroked and scratched into the sideburn.

“I felt the same way in that cave,” Tony whispered. “Thanks for telling me.” He was quiet for a few breaths and then asked, “What can you tell me about the Hound Program?”

“Why should I tell ya squat ‘bout that?” Victor stared back at him as Tony’s hand dropped to the bed between them.

“It was my government, wasn’t it? I’m fighting for this country, for our belief in freedom – if there’s some horrid murdering black-ops division brainwashing killers, I need to know. I’m not asking so I can judge you about your forced involvement.”

“Seems t’ me, yer real good at that – or ya were downstairs, earlier.”

“I was wrong to jump to conclusions, not knowing your situation. I can’t know if you don’t tell me.” He reached out to cover Victor’s fingers lightly with his. “I need this; I rub elbows with those D.C. stuffed shirts. No one seems to know anything about the Hound Program, but you do.”

Staring at the hand touching his, Victor relented. “It was started as a wetworks outfit, t’ give their enemies a dirt nap. Me an’ a couple other brainwashed guinea pigs were trackers with a built-in rep fer recreational slaughter. Tha brass that knew ‘bout it didn’t like usin’ mutants – they hate us – but they were willin’ t’ foot tha bill t’ try it out. Already told ya ‘bout … tha targets.”

“That old way of brainwashing is more torture as conditioning than actual brain-manipulation. I imagine it’s very different than what Xavier was trying to do.”

“I ain’t gotta imagine, havin’ tried all tha flavors.”

Tony’s fingers tightened over his. “Those creeps didn’t have you under control for long.”

“They never do – whoever tha fuck tries it. I broke that leash, like all tha ones before an’ after it. Then I used tha data I stole on potential targets t’ become Hounds an’ killed ‘em – stopped that bullshit dead in tha water, far as I know.”

“Good, bad, or indifferent…”

“They weren’t Boy Scouts. Tha shit they made me do … couldn’t let ‘em keep doin’ that, with or without me. It was an experiment – they probly called it a flop an’ dropped it. They tried t’ burn me, fer knowin’ ‘bout it. Fuckers do that a lot, but it don’t never go tha way they plan.”

Tony was silent for a while after that, but it didn’t last.

“Did you go after the people who ran the program?”

“Couldn’t risk it. Tha assholes I did see were on tha top tier. Tanglin’ with yer whole military is pushin’ it a tad, even fer me. They got all tha cards, all tha power. So yeah, they’re probly still there, hidin’ under one rock or ‘nother. Yer country may believe in freedom, but D.C. has ‘nuff rot in it t’ choke ya if’n ya dig in too far.”

“Agreed. Sometimes it’s hard to trust them or the military. I trust Rhodey, but…”

“They all gotta bigger fish givin’ orders they hafta follow. Mark me, Tony – ya might run int’ that some day when yer friend’ll go against ya cuz some asshole wearin’ ‘nuff stars tells ‘im t’ do it.”

“I guess I’ll deal with that if it ever comes up. What happened after you got free of the Hound Program?”

“Went back t’ doin’ what I do.”

“Contract assassin work.”

“Among other pursuits.”

“So the Adamantium?”

“Came along later. Twice.”

“Ow.”

Trying to give Tony answers and his attention, he ignored the lock of hair that slid from the messy braided bun to hang in his face.

“Not tha sort o’ body mod I’d recommend. Gettin’ it ripped offa yer bones hurts just as bad as gettin’ it melted over ‘em. Wearin’ it on yer outside like ya do – way smarter plan.”

“Definitely – but I better stop before you start calling me Pepper.” Tony let go of his hand and stroked the loose hair behind his pointed ear.

“Don’t mind as much if’n it’s ya.” Victor smirked at him, feeling bolder as his hair was stroked a second time. _Hope springs eternal? At least he likes how I fuck. That’s gotta be good fer somethin’._  “Whatever gets me a third date.”

Tony smiled, but his answer felt like a strike. “Maybe we should discuss that, since you’re not supposed to ask me to prom.”

Victor frowned and turned away to lie on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

 _Either be tha toy he does want, or walk away an’ don’t look back. Ya ain’t never gonna be more’n that t’ this one._ “Ain’t gotta worry ‘bout it. I know what ya wanna say, know how this shit works. T’morrow’s it. Said it before – just keep takin’ my whistle-blower calls down tha road. Maybe once in a blue moon talk t’ me. That’s what counts.”

“Calls? Well, obviously. Listen, we wouldn’t be having this chat if I didn’t enjoy scrambling a bed with you. If that wasn’t the case, you would’ve woken up alone the first morning with Pepper handing you your dry cleaning. So – maybe ... there’s a chance that you don’t know what I’m going to say.”

Watching him warily for a moment, Victor sighed. “Shoot.”

“Okay. We know I work a lot, missions interruptions, and our friends wouldn’t understand – you Hatfield, me McCoy – all that old cliché, ad nauseam. We also know I am bad at remembering to respond. When I do find time and call, let’s keep things light. We’re having fun – this is supposed to be fun, right?”

“Yeah...”

“Excellent. Life is too short. Well, for me, anyway. Good chat. I vote Italian.”

The shreds of anger and hope that were left abandoned him until all he felt was loss. _Leavin’ right tha hell now would be best, ya know that. Gonna stay an’ play bitch anyway ‘til he boots ya? Fuckin’ useless. Lick ‘is hand, ya cur – ya know he thinks yer garbage, too, no matter how much he likes how ya fuck._

With his stomach curling in upset, healing factor useless, he retreated from feeling as best he could before he shamed himself by showing the riot within. When the mask finally slipped over his face, he managed a low tone of teasing mockery to give Tony what he wanted.

“Surprised ya get a damn thing done ‘round here, seein’ as yer takin’ a food break at every turn.”

“It’s called three meals a day – it’s a thing. I promised Pepper and Happy I’d do better on remembering to eat if I take a weekend off alone. JARVIS, is Pepper still here?”

“Yes, sir – Miss Potts is in the library.”

“Define ‘alone’,” Victor groused.

“Personal assistants are sort of supposed to hang around – to assist.” Tony half-climbed his chest and leaned on him as his fingers began toying with the nearest nipple. “Ask her if she’s eating with us or getting something else. I want Italian Beef Braciole. You know the place.”

“Miss Potts is heading home soon if you do not need anything further, sir.”

“That’s all I needed,” Victor deadpanned.

Tony grinned. “No, that’s fine. Tell her goodnight for me. Put in my usual order.”

“Miss Potts just called it in, sir. She will wait for it to arrive and set it up for you and your guest before she goes home.”

Tony beamed a smile at Victor. “She’s good.”

“So I’m often told.”

Chuckling lightly, Tony leaned down and licked the nipple.

Victor shifted in discomfort and he stopped. Tony watched him quietly, either unsure how to respond or feeling irritated, it was hard to tell. Victor tried to hold still as Tony did it again, confused by the strange feelings that were seeping in to kill desire.

 _Ya know ya want ‘im. Don’t wreck what time ya got left. It ain’t no diff’rent than bein’ a playtoy fer any other dick or twat that won’t be seen with ya in public. Take what ya can get. What else is there?_ Yet the act of falling still and not reacting made that warm mouth leave his body again. He met his gaze reluctantly as the pretty brown eyes watched him. _How tha fuck am I gonna do this? Never shoulda come here. Leave or shove it down, asshole. Be damned if’n yer gonna show weakness or whine like a bitch._ Trying not to let his mood sour further, Victor asked the first inane thing that entered his head to get the man talking, to distract him. “What project’s next?”

“Hmm. Okay. Ah, several to do with medical stuff, and clean water. Apparently, when you give up making weapons, the tree hugger types are ready to welcome you with open arms.”

“Ever make toys fer yerself – besides tha suits?”

“I am making a new phone – just for me, not for mass production. The masses couldn’t afford it.”

“Don’t ya already got tha crazy alien phone? Where’d ya get that one?”

“I made that one, too. This is going to utilize my other technology, like the glass and the holograms in the workshop.”

The inventor’s hand began to slide down his body until Victor’s abdomen muscles fluttered in a ripple away from the touch. It had been involuntary, but he abruptly felt confined, trapped. As the fingers left his body, he couldn’t meet those eyes again, afraid of what he’d see in them. Gaze dropping down to his hand, he was surprised to see claws cutting their way out as his unease increased.

“Victor, I’m stumped. Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

He froze where he lay, watching the claws curl and lengthen. The man’s scent confused him. There was heat in it, but fear seemed to be killing that.

 _Why fear? Talk, idiot._ “Not a thing,” he finally answered, breaking the silence. The lie stung, leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

“I don’t believe that.”

Tony waited, still watching him, and then Victor finally recognized a taint to the scent that was overtaking the brief fear – irritation … or anger.

Victor turned his head to escape the stare as the warmth slowly left the man’s eyes. Emotions he could barely pin down long enough to attempt to name them tried to drown him. His heart rate increased and then the scents in the room began to tilt and morph and he closed his eyes tight against the awful surge of madness.

Mud and blood, both filled his nose – he couldn’t breathe! Something heavy had struck the back of his neck and was pushing him down into slopped dirt. Frantic, he scrabbled behind his head to get free and felt thick leather split under his claws. A woman’s voice was screaming, growing dim as his ears were filled. The bloody mud hummed a strange cyclic sound that echoed through the mess – a siren song. It offered comfort.

_Let go, drown an’ it ends. It all ends…_

Fingers touched him, brushed down the side of his neck, in the same instant that vertebrae snapped under the heavy split boot. A vicious hiss was torn from his throat – made by air, he could breathe again – and when his eyes snapped open, he was staring up at the pale and stiff face of Tony Stark.

 _What did I do?_ Terror gripped his throat, but there was no scent of blood. Tony’s fear had bloomed only to be overtaken by anger. Looking down, he saw his clawed fingers gripping the man’s forearm tight enough to bruise. The lethal points were pricked on the skin, not yet drawing blood.

“Let go.”

The voice was a chilled warning as it echoed his mad thought, the face filled with more outrage than fear. Victor opened his grip carefully before the inventor snatched his arm out of the way.

Tony huffed out a breath sharply and rolled off his body. “I need a drink.”

He got up and pulled on the lounge pants he’d tossed onto an odd artsy chair. A drawer opened and shut and by the time Victor glanced up, he had hauled a black t-shirt on and left the bedroom without looking back.

Staring after him in shock, Victor didn’t move for almost a quarter of an hour. He could hear the man talking to Pepper beyond in the kitchen. Tony sounded angry or frustrated, but for some reason Pepper did not. Guilt, shame, and fear tore at him and he tuned out what they said to each other, not wanting to know.

 _Ya coulda taken ‘is fuckin’ hand off…_ The thought made him feel sick. _Fuck ya, ya bloody waste – weak, stupid fuck. Pa shoulda done it, shoulda drowned ya like a rat in tha filth!_

Trying to control his breathing as he’d been taught to do, to calm the body until it faded, it was hard not to allow the madness to shift and morph. He gasped at the abrupt scent of his mate’s blood and his mind reeled in confusion, not sure if it was Tony … or Michel. Wind rose and he growled. There was no wind. There was no scent of blood.

 _Pull it back, don’t show this t’ ‘im, please… This is Tony’s house, that’s where ya are._ He coughed and snarled, abruptly remembering that the house could see him.

Victor rolled and curled onto his belly where he could watch the empty doorway, at a loss for what to do. He tried again to pretend nothing was wrong as anger and self-hatred swept all the rest of the mental flotsam away.

 _Yer fuckin’ insane. Stop reachin’ so high, nothin’ fer ya there._ _Miss Junior League Tabitha sent ya packin’ even with a cub between ya. He’s Tony-fuckin’-Stark, darlin’ o’ Yank justice, an’ all he wants is t’ get ‘is itch scratched – he’s slummin’, an’ yer tha only one that don’t wanna see it. Ya belong in tha dark with yer own kind – criminals an’ killers who ain’t gonna care ‘bout all tha shit ya done. Most o’ ‘em are useless braindead borin’ asswipes, but ya ain’t worth any better’n that an’ ya know it._

With a growl, he nearly tossed himself out of Tony’s scrambled bed. He snagged his lounge pants from the floor, but threw them into his open duffel bag. Grabbing his jeans, he turned and froze – Tony had returned and he’d barely noticed while the decision to leave rattled around in his seething head.

The inventor was leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed over a psychedelic image of Jimi Hendrix’s face. His expression, body language, scent – none of it helped. He simply couldn’t read the man.

“Were you leaving?” he asked, his tone neutral, controlled.

Shattered pride pricked and singed, surging over madness as the mask stiffened to help him cope – at least to get him out. _Lick yer wounds somewhere else, ya weak-ass li’l bitch._ He lifted his chin. “Ain’t much reason t’ stay.”

To his surprise, Tony wilted a bit, his scent morphing into yet another mix he couldn’t read. “Come on, huh? Don’t go. Have some dinner with me.”

Victor shook his head to clear it, baffled at the man’s calm and the strange invitation on the heels of Tony’s anger. _After what I almost did…_ “Not hungry, an’ not in tha mood fer more fuckin’ questions.”

“Talk or not, it’s fine. I talk enough for both of us. You don’t have to eat, but I need to. It’s really good, though. What do you say?”

Forcing himself to move, he endured being observed as he pulled the jeans on and fastened them. Meeting those eyes again, he stared back as a riot of thoughts and confusing emotions almost made him dizzy.

“I’m … going to get out of your way,” Tony said softly. “Kitchen or front door, whatever you need to do – but I hope you’ll come eat with me. Pepper’s going home soon. I’m often chasing elusive me time, but unless I’m working, I’m not … overly fond of being alone.”

Tony turned away and headed off to the kitchen again, missing how Victor’s stiff posture fell apart in his wake. After a glower at his phone in the duffel and his scuffed black boots on the floor, he trailed after the man. He felt helpless in his need to be around him, to hear that voice speaking to him – to be reflected in those beautiful eyes. Yet even as he followed with soundless tread, he knew the real reason he was pulled to do it.

_It wasn’t real, ya stupid fuckin’ dumb beast. He don’t want us beyond a tumble. Bury it an’ forget it. Yer mate is dead._

Balking a moment as he saw Tony waiting for him under the huge round alien skylight, Victor swallowed a growl and moved to rejoin him.

Pepper was setting the kitchen table for two when Tony led him in.

Fetching up against the counter with the most distance away from her, he hesitated to cross arms over his chest and stuck his fingers in the pockets of his jeans instead – barely remembering to retract claws beforehand. He felt weirdly self-conscious around her without a shirt, and then felt stupid for it and frowned. Glaring at his bare and clawed feet to avoid glaring at her, he kept his eyes down until she stopped smiling at him and looked away. The smile had been … it made no sense.

Tony drew Victor’s stare back up as he came behind her and moved the silverware from around one of the plates and set the utensils off to the side. She noted it, but didn’t react.

Once again, they were synced effortlessly and for one blinding moment, a bewildering hatred for her burned inside him. Consciously making his body relax, he leaned more of his weight on the counter.

“I brought up a few other bottles, too – are you sure about this one?” Pepper asked.

Tony glanced at it. “Yeah, hand it over. Do you want a glass?”

“Just a little.”

Victor was surprised when he got a glimpse of the label – Cheval Blanc 1947, a three-litre bottle of Merlot. He’d never seen one in person before, but he knew it ran in the $135,000 crowd. It seemed an odd choice for an awkward meal in a kitchen with a felon. The trio of less criminally expensive bottles was a testament to the fact that Pepper agreed.

Tony handled it like a true oenophile, and Victor fell into wondering how the brash parts of him managed to mesh with the cultured parts.

“You have Curious George face,” Tony teased him, smiling. “Ask away, it’s only fair.”

 _There’s somethin’ t’ try – quit worshippin’ tha man by noticin’ ‘is faults an’ dumbass quirks. He ain’t a damn god._ “All tha rock t-shirts, mechanic skill, mad scientist inventor, an’ basic arrogant brat stuff on tha one hand, but ya know how t’ handle wine like a professional snob. Kinda surprisin’. Tha suits ya pick, all o’ that – tha culture shit seems a bit o’ a mismatch with tha rest o’ ya. Where’d ya learn it?”

Pepper was smiling again as Tony handed her a glass. “He has you pegged.”

Handing the other glass to Victor and picking up the last one, Tony snorted.

“I had excellent teachers of arrogant snobbery in my dad and his friends, but my mother taught me about wine, while she and my unofficial Aunt Peggy taught me how to dress like a proper billionaire without being too painfully ridiculous.”

Victor frowned. “I like bein’ painfully ridiculous with my bling.” His ears twitched at the sound of a car moving up to the circular driveway.

Tony winked at him. “I know. I found a few photos of you in those gold and canary diamond Luxuriator sunglasses. Delightful. You look delicious in a bespoke suit. A toast: to enjoying ridiculous wine with people I like – waiting for boring ‘special occasions’ is so passé.”

Pepper laughed, sobering when she met Victor’s gaze. Did she realize she was an open book? He didn’t even need her scent as proof – her expression and body language was more than enough. Tony wanted her, too, though he wasn’t thinking about it that instant.

 _Ain’t no way t’ compete with that._ Victor drank to the toast, trying not to treat the amazing vintage like cheap swill. _Why these two ain’t already mates is beyond me. Humans an’ their bullshit reasons fer not fuckin’ – probly just as asinine a set o’ reasons as Tabitha’s fer walkin’ away from me._

The house chimed in, “The delivery driver is here, Miss Potts.”

“Thanks, JARVIS.” She set her glass down after taking another sip, and then went to the door. After she returned and Tony helped her set things up, she finished her wine and accepted his half-hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Victor, if I miss you in the morning, thank you again for rescuing my mom’s files.”

Victor nodded, watching her as she disappeared.

Tony set his glass down. “Ah, I’ll be right back, going to see her out to her car. Get started if you want.”

He spent the time pacing until Tony returned, sitting only when he did.

“At least try some of this, there’s tons here.”

The large beef roll covered in sauce was stuffed with ham, nuts, and not much greenery, so he ate some of the thick slices just to please the man. Preferring scotch whiskey didn’t lessen the quality of the wine, so he helped Tony kill the bottle. The inventor ate with gusto and Victor found that he liked to watch him eat – even if it wasn’t something he had hunted for him.

While they ate, Tony told him more about the medical projects he had mentioned, and even regaled him with a few stories from missions until the plates were empty. When he tossed the last of the wine down the hatch, he fetched the next bottle and started in on it.

Victor fell into watching him ply the ah-so to open it as he had the first one, mesmerized by his clever fingers. “Plannin’ t’ get tipsy?”

“No, wine doesn’t have much chance of that. Do you want a splash to rinse your glass? I don’t generally bother when going from serious pricey to sort of pricey.”

“Got no earthly idea what tha hell yer even sayin’.”

“Scotch man, got it.” Sipping the next vintage, which Victor ignored after he’d filled both glasses, Tony studied him. “I know I implied a ‘no more questions’ in the dinner invitation, but I do have one, and I’d rather not leave it until tomorrow – assuming I can convince you to stay.”

As his scent changed again, there was a fresh note of anxiety in it. Strangling the growl that threatened to break free, Victor downed the wine in one gulp.

 _Ya nearly maimed ‘im, so that fucks yer claims ya won’t hurt ‘im. Take yer lumps._ “Yer not gonna drop it, I bet – may as well spit it out.” _Just t’night. Ya know ya don’t wanna walk out that door ‘til ya hafta. Screw yer courage t’ tha stickin’ place, an’ maybe get t’ screw ‘im again. One fer tha road…_

*****************************************************************

Tony couldn’t help the nervous flutter in his gut at the thought of his question. Taking even breaths to calm himself, what was left of the anger began to fade away, too.

Victor sat there like a furry shirtless Adonis with his hair in a braided bun, ratty from sleep. The bone beads were tangled in the hair, half hidden by it as more escaped the braid. He looked resigned – and maybe a little gut-shot.

The feral’s unusual avoidance behavior in bed had been confusing. He had tried again to offer touch as comfort when the upset seemed to increase. The snatch and grip on his forearm, claws poised to stab – capable of severing it with a simple effortless squeeze – had turned his guts to water in an instant.

_With ‘Don’t show fear!’ going off in my head like a claxon, the threat of being mutilated made getting angry pretty damn easy. Coupled with the silent treatment prior, the glaring fact that something was amiss, and the obvious lie over that…_

Frustration and fear had led Tony to walk away in anger – a mistake, as Pepper had pointed out. He hadn’t told her about that terrifying clawed grip, but he’d known she could help him untangle things when he related his frustration to her.

 _‘You let him in, Tony,’_ she had chastised him, relatively gently. _‘You need to talk to him, not walk out the moment he starts behaving in a way you don’t like. I imagine it would be hard to know what all is wrong with him – but a little empathy and understanding goes a long way. If you really do want to help him – you need to actually work at it, because with a person like that, it won’t be easy or quick. If you don’t want to put in the work, end the … experiment, or whatever you’re calling it. Don’t toy with someone like that, especially if he has real feelings for you. It’s not only potentially dangerous, it’s … cruel.’_ Tony sighed. She was right – she often was. _Okay, here goes…_

Rising, Tony picked up his stool and moved it around the corner of the table to Victor’s side.

 _I either have to tackle this issue, or give up trying to teach him – and give up everything else with it._ “Humor me, huh? Turn this way.”

His guest grunted as he shoved his stool back to sit facing him as requested. He hooked thumbs in the pockets of his jeans, and all of the claws, in fingers and toes, had retracted. Softly glowing cat eyes watched him as Tony scooted closer.

“May I touch you?”

At a stiff single nod, Tony placed his palms down on thighs that were almost thicker than his torso. Touch still seemed to both hold Victor’s attention and soothe him at once.

 _Not so surprising, most people probably don’t dare. Yikes, Victor with a touch hunger problem – not a pleasant idea – but then why threaten to dismember me over a touch?_ _Pepper was off in one respect, about real feelings. Stalking isn’t love. Then again, all I told her was that we got physical over trench-bonding._ “I want to ask you this, and I’d like an honest answer.”

Victor nodded again, but didn’t say anything. His heavy shoulders were slumped now and the arrogant mask he had briefly worn was gone.

Pushing on, Tony asked, “Have you ever thought about killing me – beyond work-related reasons?”

He tried to wait patiently, but the longer Victor hesitated after his initial twitch of surprise, the more obvious it became that the answer was yes. It took effort to remain calm, all things considered. His fingers gripped a little over the solid muscles, trying not to think about the coiled monstrous strength in that body, how hard Victor was to injure or even to slow down, or the fact that all of his suits were in the workshop.

 _Here we are with this concern on deck – again – because I’m an idiotic danger whore who likes to play with fire. He calms when shifted into sexual gear…_ Even thinking about that had his hands giving the thick thighs a rub and squeeze. _Geez, stop it. He was flinching earlier. You figured out he doesn’t want to tell you no, consenting or not. What if the sex is only making this worse? Still waiting for an answer. I’m comfort-groping a half-naked professional assassin with stalking statistics popping in my head like fireworks, and he gets cagey over this question? Fun!_

“Why’s that matter now?”

 _And the fun keeps coming. Don’t retreat. He respects confidence, and obviously, soothing him is not a bad plan right now, just don’t sexualize it._ “It matters, and it’s essentially a yes or no. I’m going to guess you have, because ‘no’ wouldn’t be so hard to admit.” He sighed. “We need to talk about this. I have to know you aren’t going to become a threat to me the moment you feel you aren’t getting what you want. Stalker 101 – we did discuss that before. You claimed you weren’t a threat then. Is that still true?”

Victor watched him, wary again. “Ain’t gonna hurt ya – fer tha umpteenth time…”

“You keep saying that, yes, and yet – you have thought about it. Then I tried to offer comfort and you nearly severed my hand. You have to talk to me about this.”

“That was…” His low voice evaporated and the amber eyes skated away to the floor.

“Victor … that was what? What was that? Was it something to do with instinct?” The nod was barely movement at all. “Were you triggered, is this a PTSD problem? I struggle with that, too, I understand it. Give me something.” Another fraction of a nod allowed him to breathe again. “Okay. That helps.”

“Don’t wanna talk ‘bout that,” the mutant whispered. “It’s … bad, but nothin’ t’ do with ya – didn’t know I was grabbin’ ya.”

“I was the only one in bed with you.”

He shook his head in the negative and the bone beads swung loose. Tony managed not to wince when they struck Victor’s cheekbone. The feral didn’t react to it.

Mulling over what he was implying, he worked at remaining calm. “Was it a … flashback? You were reliving something bad, grabbing someone else, to stop them?”

“Ghosts,” came the man’s low and broken whisper.

Surprise chased by annoyance that he hadn’t guessed that tripped his heart rate faster.

 _Insomnia, night terrors, flashbacks, PTSD – all painfully familiar – am I that awful not to think he’d have all that? Auschwitz and brainwashing torture, for pity’s sake … and something about being locked in a cellar and defanged? Nice going. Hank would probably want to strangle me._ Remembering Pepper’s words about it being hard to know what all was wrong, and empathy, stung him. _So would Pepper. At least he’s not angry now. I am so out of my league…_

Careful and slow, he let go of one thigh and lifted that hand to Victor’s neck again in the same touch that had gotten him grabbed before moving it to the furry cheek. The reaction was confusing as Victor pressed into the touch as he had before.

“I’m happy you’re trying to let me know why, instead of being pissed at me.”

When the amber eyes shifted to look at him, the black slitted pupils were moving, widening. “Ya ain’t done nothin’ t’ me t’ be pissed at.”

“Well, something I did or didn’t do upset you down in the workshop, and it’s clearly bothering you now, but…” he stroked the sideburn again. “I do need to understand why you thought about killing me.”

Sighing when the mutant looked down, Tony left his hands where they were for the comfort factor, and changed tactics.

“Look, I’m a danger whore, right? I’m still going to ring your bell until you need to go – if you’ll let me, that is. So let’s start slow – tell me when and where? Work with me. We need this.”

“New York, my suite at tha bank – after tha waterfall thing in Obinata’s office,” he muttered.

Tony arched an eyebrow at him. “Seriously? Okay… Ah, that night was maybe the wildest time of my entire life – the good kind, anyhow. The crazed feral thing, pinning and making me, not even pulling free before doing it again, not knowing if you’d ever stop fucking me… I want to have that memory bronzed. Why? What did I do to mess up that bad? I mean, I knew you were upset, after I declared it my turn. I remember that slam about you feeling like a Cracker Jack prize rather vividly, not to mention the drugged lion petting zoo remark – like a gut punch. I said it then, repeating now – we switch, it’s what we do. If you were … feeling used… Well, weren’t we using each other? Aren’t we now? What’s wrong with that, if we both want it?”

“Don’t matter, it was maybe two breaths o’ time.”

He used the press of his hand on Victor’s face to make him look at him. “It matters to me. When exactly did you think about it?”

“Ya got up, started gettin’ dressed t’ leave. Two seconds, tops – over an’ done.”

“Because I was about to leave? See, that is all kinds of worrisome – for me.”

“Ain’t no need. Had t’ … had t’ reach that point t’ look at it, t’ feel it, then I knew I didn’t want that. Even if ya never gimme tha time o’ day again, still need t’ know yer out there. Ya exist. I need that. That’s why I like t’ give a burnin’ need fer a coroner t’ idiots that try t’ put a contract out on ya. It’s my new hobby.”

“So tomorrow – late morning, technically – what happens then?”

“I put my ass behind tha wheel o’ my ride an’ disappear – outta yer hair.”

“Then you go back to stalking me?”

“Won’t matter what I tell ya – ain’t gonna catch me at it.” The mutant’s gaze slid down to stare at the hand on his thigh.

_I need to give him an out. Tough guy like this, he won’t cope with playing dunce cap for much longer. I get the feeling he’s put up with it this long because he’s given me too much power here, for some weird reason, and that isn’t anything like stalker behavior. You’re a stumper, Victor._

“‘Sides,” the feral added with a bit more defiance, even with eyes downcast, “there ain’t no law against pickin’ up mags yer in or showin’ up at public events.”

 _Fortune favors the brave._ “Without firing weapons at my face, hopefully.” He smiled and winked when Victor looked up at him sharply, a growl dying on his lips fast.

“That was savin’ yer ass, flyboy – ya fuckin’ know that.” The pupils narrowed to slits as the expression contracted into a wary glare.

 _Eep. There’s that patience limit._ Tony removed his hand from his face and put it back on the other thigh. “I do, I’m just … never mind. Collecting interviews, watching from afar … your fanboy activities don’t bother me.”

“So what’s tha big prob?”

 _What indeed. Maybe I should have asked about Chicago while he was still in whipped pet mode. Great timing for zinging him back to pissy. Take a bow._ “You’re a self-styled stalker, Victor, you tell me.”

“Not gonna gut ya fer needin’ me outta yer way. Ain’t got one o’ ‘em bullshit ‘if’n I can’t have ya, nobody can’ motives, neither. Fuck who tha hell ya want, don’t care. Got no time fer that crap. I do got shit t’ do, ya know.”

“Yes, I know. Okay. Thanks for being honest with me – that’s all I wanted. Well, almost all I wanted.”

He started to slide his palms up the worn and soft denim straining over those awesome thighs, but then stopped.

Looking up at the now impenetrable poker face and the wary eyes, he asked, “Why did you start to flinch in bed, before?”

Victor’s eyes narrowed. “Ya said one question.”

Tony halted his frown, too. “That’s right – square deal. Dropping it. Will you stay tonight? We can be as platonic as you like, or not – sex is not a condition of the offer.” Victor’s hesitation sparked a whole new set of questions, but Tony sat on them.

“Yeah.”

“Good. I’m enjoying your company. Whatever I did or keep doing – general apologies for being an ass. It’s a hard habit to break.”

“Told ya already, ya ain’t done nothin’ ya intended t’ do – we’re five-by-five ‘nuff fer me.”

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to tell me what I unintentionally did?”

“Best if’n we take tha current truce an’ roll with it. No sense borrowin’ trouble. We’re just too diff’rent is all.”

Tony gave him a reluctant nod. “Okay. You know … if you want to ask me anything, you can – you’ve been more than patient with my incessant questions – and Pepper’s.”

“Got one thing I wanna know.”

“Name it.”

“Ya gonna teach me more stuff ya want me t’ learn, or what?”

“Ah … sure? I sort of thought that was one of the things I was annoying you with.”

“Oh, it’s plenty annoyin’.” Victor shrugged. “Still willin’ t’ listen. If’n I don’t like it, gonna ignore it.”

Tony felt a smile tugging at his lips. “Fair enough.”

“Did ya eat ‘nuff so’s we can go fuck some more?”

“Yes, and I’m very much on board with that idea. You did say I can fuck whomever I want, and at the moment, that happens to be you.”

“Slide ‘em hands wherever ya damn well want then, an’ let’s get it on – as tha immortal Marvin Gaye crooned it.”

Chuckling, Tony slid his hands from the magnificent thighs to take Victor’s hands, unhooking the thumbs out of the pockets. He rose and tugged to get the mutant to stand up with him.

“Let’s go back to bed. I was of a mind to suck on your nipples as a start, and I still want to.”

It was a surprise that the mutant allowed himself to be led so easily and Tony wondered again about the apparent power he’d been given. Victor had made it plain he didn’t want to discuss where things had gone wrong, and Tony intended to respect that, even if it seemed unwise.

Getting them both nude and slowly relaxed again took some effort, but the nipple sucking endeavor did work wonders.

By the time he was pushing into Victor’s body again, barely able to function verbally through slow and easy thrusts, he had convinced himself that their latest problems were a talk – and a mystery – that could wait.

He stroked the thighs again as he lay between them, loving how the powerful muscles twitched and shuddered under his touch.

On his back, Victor watched him under heavy lids fringed with lush black lashes. In the dimmed room, the amber glow was mesmerizing. As he used the thick thighs to grip and thrust harder, the serene look of contented pleasure changed, morphing into the fascinated expression of near-worship.

_I’ll never get used to that, but I’m getting addicted to it. God, how he feels, how he looks at me… Even more than flirting with the danger he is, that – that is going to be hard to give up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curious George is a monkey character in children’s books by Hans Augusto Rey and Margret Rey – first appearance in 1939. Chatty Cathy was a pull-string “talking” doll invented by Jack Ryan, made by Mattel, in stores in 1960, for six years. She was second in popularity after Barbie.
> 
> “Hatfields and McCoys” of course, refers to a feud of two rural families of the West Virginia (Hatfields) and Kentucky (McCoys) area on either side of Tug Fork (a tributary of the Big Sandy River) from 1863 through 1891. The first murder in the feud was a McCoy who fought for the Union in the Civil War, while most on both sides fought for the Confederacy. A group called the Logan Wildcats (Confederate Home Guards) murdered Asa Harmon McCoy. Victor read about the Civil War long after the fact to find out more about his mate, the French Union soldier and carpenter-turned-railroad builder, Michel Richoux. I’m sure this feud would have caught his attention for many reasons, especially as a tale of a family that didn’t quite get along. Before and during the feud, the two families had intermarried and switches in loyalty to either side also happened here and there. Not the best example of how people behave.
> 
> The Stanford Prison Experiment (Stanford University, August 14 - 20, 1971) was an attempt to investigate the psychological effects of perceived power, focusing on the struggle between prisoners and guards. Conducted by a research group led by psychology professor Philip Zimbardo using college students. It was funded by the military (Navy and Marines) and was fraught with ethics violations and abuse of the “prisoner” students by the “guard” students. An “asymmetric backdoor” is a hacking term, a type of backdoor into a program that can only be used by the attacker who plants it.
> 
> “Screw your courage to the sticking place” is a line from Shakespeare’s "Macbeth", Act 1, Scene 7, where Lady Macbeth urges her husband to have the guts to murder King Duncan. Obviously, I had to split a chapter in two again. It got too big by far. Thanks for reading! -  AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic)


	7. Scars Underneath the Skin

In the corner of your eye  
I can see into your mind  
A shadow beneath your smile  
Something hidden deep inside  
Silently you wait for someone to see you

And you gaze up at the sky  
As the clouds are passing by  
And you wonder for a while  
What it would be like to die  
Silently you wish for someone to save you

But you want to be alive  
As the self-loathing subsides  
And you will not be denied  
So you push their lies aside  
Violently you burn for someone to feel you

Claw your flesh from off your bones  
Face that fire on your own  
Embrace the life you thought that you could never know  
Can’t erase the pain inside without a storm within  
They left their lies like scars underneath your skin  
The one you’re hiding in, the one you’re supposed to live in

~ Skin (Machinae Supremacy)

*****************************************************************

Victor came with no help at all, just from the strength of his harsher thrusts. When Tony pulled free and moved up, he tried to scoop as much of the mess into his cupped palm as he could from the trembling beautiful abs. The mutant knew what he wanted; they both wanted it.

Tony watched, rapt, as the lethal mouth opened enough to allow him to slip a pair of fingers in. He tipped his hand and let the pearly mess slide and drip from palm, down fingers, into the sharp maw. Keeping his hand still, he watched the long winding tongue undulate out to lick it clean.

“Geez, that’s hot. Not my usual thing, but damn. Why do you do that?”

The feral smiled tentatively up at him. “Do it cuz it’s erotic, but also t’ not waste it.”

“Um, why? Sorry, but ‘why’ is one of my favorite words.”

Victor’s smile turned into a smirk. “Protein, zinc, vitamin C … why not eat it?”

“Well, STDs, for one. Not a problem with you, but for the rest of us, it is. Safest way to play with that, not to mention your blood games, is within an established couple, and the couple that gets tested together stays together – unless she shoots you.”

“Personal experience talkin’?”

“Alas, my track record with relationships is the opposite of my successes elsewhere in life.”

“We got loads in common, then.”

“Pardon the pun? So back to the nutritional benefits of cum…”

Victor’s smirk stretched wider. “A lovin’ spoonful ain’t gonna replace a steak fer nutrition, but I been in ‘nuff dire cracks with an overworked healin’ factor t’ learn not t’ waste any shot o’ protein. Mostly though, it’s just sexy – ‘specially if I’m eatin’ yers.”

“And me with the inconvenient refractory period.”

“Get on yer belly an’ I’ll rim yer ass through that in no time.”

“Sweet talker,” Tony said with a chuckle, as he rolled off him to do just that. Only five minutes under that tongue’s ministrations changed his mind about what he wanted. “When you’re satisfied with how open and wet you can get me, hold me down with a paw and dig in, huh?”

The low growl sounded over his shoulder blades as the head moved back and forth, licking and scenting him. It made him shiver with renewed lust.

“Find yer slick, wherever tha hell it went, an’ I will.”

“Challenge accepted.”

In the end, he had to get up and fetch a new bottle out of the nightstand drawer. Turning to admire his bedmate with it clutched in his hand, he caught that expression of near-worship again seconds before it twisted into an evil smirk that might have worried him if it didn’t just finish the process of making him hard.

“Hold that tight an’ turn ‘round, bend over an’ gimme yer ass.”

“Shouldn’t I be on my belly as earlier requested?”

“When I’m ready fer ya t’ be there, I’ll put ya there. Do what I said, flyboy.”

Tony turned, grinning even as another shiver ran up his spine. He set his feet apart for balance and bent at the waist.

“Legs t’gether.”

“You want me to fall on my face? I’m not that sober.”

“Do it. Pull yer junk back so’s I can see it under yer ass, trap it with yer thighs. Ain’t gonna tell ya twice.”

“Crap, you are a sexy bastard…”

Not being touched at all after he obeyed nearly drove him to object again, but he knew it was a test. He remained still and silent with his fists, one clutching the lube, resting on his thighs.

The tongue slipped beneath his ass when it touched him and toyed with his balls before it scraped over them, feline barbs nearly buckling his knees, up to his already worked-open hole. Claw-tipped fingers gripped his hips, the needle points pricking skin as the tongue wriggled inside him and began to thrust.

“Holy shit, Victor…” He almost whined when the tongue slipped back out.

“Hush. Gonna make ya paint yer legs with cum first. Then I’ll lick ya clean an’ put ya on yer belly, tongue-fuck ya ready fer my cock t’ split ya. If’n ya drop that bottle, gonna go watch TV an’ practice tellin’ ya ‘no’ all night.”

“You are evil.”

“Yup. Got it?”

“Yes…”

He was as good as his threats. Tony’s fist around the lube bottle ached long before he came. It was weird to feel the slight curl of shame and distaste at war with pleasure and excitement as his cum spouted down his legs.

“Fastidious as a damn cat – I like that, boy ... like it a lot. Gonna turn ya int’ a cum slut, maybe sooner’n later.”

Tony felt his face flush at being called ‘boy’. He didn’t care for it one bit, yet even that cranked his lust higher.

Victor stopped touching him and all he could do was stare at the floor and feel it as the slick cum dripped through the hair on his legs, some of it dripping on his ankles and the floor.

Tony flinched and straightened his back when Victor appeared, sinking to his knees in front of him.

“Keep yers t’gether,” he told Tony. “Only one ‘bout t’ spread is me.”

As Victor spread his knees wide, the thick, veined cock slapped onto the floor between them, forgotten. He looked up and met Tony’s gaze once, and then sank lower to lick every drop of cum from the floor.

“Oh my God…” _That is beyond hot. Subservient as hell, nearly on his belly, while being the boss of me. I have got to get him to do that again – when I’m in the driver’s seat._

Watching, both shocked and mesmerized, he flinched again when the tongue got to his ankles and began to move up, licking and sucking at every drophead and trail of cum.

“Victor, please…” _Don’t even know what I’m begging for – just more. More._

His cock was still half hard, and when the tongue got there, it licked the cum away in one barbed swipe up the underside and over the slit. The lips held the head and suckled once – only once – before the feral leaned back. When he rose, it was a symphony of power and grace that took Tony’s breath away.

_Abasing himself one second, and then owning me the next – and I can’t wait to feel him do it, pointy bits and all. What the hell is he?_

“Yer gonna kiss me, taste yer cum, suck my tongue – yeah ya know where it’s been. Suck it.”

Tony couldn’t think anymore after that, but when Victor stepped close, bent down, and the soft lips opened over his, he did it without question or hesitation.

Pressing lightly against him, he became aware again of the deliciously musky scent of the mutant. It was always there, stronger if either of them were aroused.

He tried to lift his hands to touch Victor, but an iron grip captured both wrists, squeezing nearly hard enough to make him drop the bottle. It almost hurt. When the kiss deepened, the hurt fired with it into a heat that shut his mind down. His kiss became more desperate and he didn’t realize he was in danger of injury from the long fangs until after Victor broke it and moved back.

Dazed, he barely reacted when he was lifted bodily and laid down on his stomach.

“Get up, Tony, on all-fours.”

It was a struggle, as was managing to remember not to let go of the bottle. Victor finally took it from him, his weight on the mattress behind him making it hard to stay upright where he was wanted.

The tongue, fingers and lube, none of it was good enough to soothe the ache inside and when the broad cockhead finally settled in place and began to nudge, he felt tears prick his eyes.

“Don’t gotta do a thing ‘cept get bred.”

Tony gasped and stared down at the blue light on the sheets as he was pierced. When it was slow like this, it could almost be frightening.

“Touch me, I need it,” he whispered, alarmed at how rough and broken his voice sounded.

“Ya want me t’ be a lover, or ya want tha beast?”

“I – both. I want claws, and … your bite.”

He was held still by arms that could throw a car, pricked by claws that could slice through stone. He almost swallowed his tongue when the cock pushed deep. Soft fur brushed his back, and then the teeth pinched his flesh over the points of healing bite marks.

“Do it … I want to feel you drink it.”

The fangs punctured the flesh, so sharp it took a moment to even feel the wounds. His head spun when the first hard suck hit his body. The cock pulled back and was shoved in rough, a brutality only stopped from injuring him by the amount of lube and work to open him beforehand.

Another hard thrust felt like it might split him, and all at once the alien wrongness of allowing a creature to wound him, to take his blood, began to build a scream in the base of his throat.

He heard a low mechanical buzzing sound and his eyes flew open. “I’m okay,” he gulped out, “I want this.”

Feeling drunk, he blinked rapidly, and when Victor growled, teeth still sunk in his flesh, he was glad he hadn’t spoken the name of the AI. The subtle warning sound over them stopped.

The fangs released him and the tongue lashed the wounds, the mouth covering them. When the bleeding stopped, the mouth began to kiss and suck the flesh, bruising it more. The pain made him gasp, even as the cock inside him slowed to become gentler. Dizzy and excited, he hoped it was a ruse and almost laughed out loud when it was. The thrusts went back to nearly punishing him as he was slowly able to get hard again.

Victor had likely been waiting for that. He shifted slightly, one palm slaping over the arc reactor and the other hand wrapped around Tony’s cock. He only held it, making Tony squirm to get more friction there.

Once Victor’s breathing finally began to quicken and huff, his heaving abdomen striking Tony’s back as he thrust, Tony used his shaking arms to push back onto that cock the moment it shoved in deeper and began to shudder.

He couldn’t stop shaking, legs and arms, as Victor came inside him. He was abruptly holding up too much of the feral’s Adamantium-enhanced weight and nearly collapsed under it a breath before Victor reared back and roared. Before the primal and glass-rattling sound stopped, Tony sank underneath it all and felt himself sliding away.

~ ~ ~

Tony woke staring at the ceiling. He was on his back in a spectacularly destroyed bed, with his legs bent at the knees and splayed wide. Between them, when he looked down, was a crown of wavy-curly blonde hair framed by heavy shoulders dusted here and there with golden fur.

There were fingers buried in his abused ass, playing with his prostate, and then the suction on his dick registered and he gasped as his back arched. He barely had time to wonder how long that had been going on when he began to come straight down the feral’s constrictor of a throat.

His hands flew down to grab those glorious shoulders and hang on for dear life as the orgasm tore through him, leaving him limp, weak, and breathless in its wake.

When Victor looked up at him, the obscene tongue licking a droplet of cum from the base of one thick fang, an amber eye winked at him.

“Welcome back, hero.”

“What … the hell did you do to me, oh my God. That was … insane.”

“Try’n t’ top New York. How’d I do?”

“Ask me again when the feeling returns to my legs.”

Victor chuckled and moved, composing Tony’s limbs for him on the way up to lie at his side. “Maybe we need ‘nother o’ yer hour naps.”

Shifting to face him made Tony reluctantly aware of just how messy his lower half was, with both tacky and slick sensations coating his ass crack.

“Did you … do it more, after I passed out?”

Ducking his head to avoid his gaze, the loose hair from the braided bun fell over Victor’s eyes like a curtain. “How pissed ya gonna be if’n I say yeah?”

“Huh. Ah, not pissed. Technically, I did okay that before.”

“Only twice, then.”

“Good to know.” He stretched, winced, and then gave Victor a sheepish little smile. “Shower, then a quickie nap.”

“Just gonna get dirty again, ain’t we?”

Tony rolled and sat up on the edge of the bed with some effort. He was shocked when sitting didn’t hurt. Muscles were certainly sore and he knew he’d been busy, but his ass wasn’t in agony.

Victor sat up behind him and gently kissed the fresh bruised bite. “Tried t’ be careful, after…” The scratchy stubble of the broad cleft chin settled on the point of his shoulder, away from the bite. “Are ya … hurt?”

In an uncharacteristic gesture of affection, wanting to reassure while still gathering his thoughts, he lifted a palm to cup the side of the feral’s face, behind the fang. The heavy head tilted to press into the touch.

“No, I’m not – a little sore, that’s all. I’m fine.”

“Ya said so before, but I sorta got tha impression ya weren’t talkin’ t’ me. Was I ‘bout t’ get zapped by yer pissy house?”

“Not zapped, but yeah, I was talking to JARVIS – don’t worry about it, okay?”

Victor lifted his chin off him. “Okay. Good t’ know ya got some kinda security in this pile o’ concrete.”

“Carry me to the shower?”

“Will, if’n yer serious.”

Tony chuckled. “Kidding. Come on. This will be a sex-free pre-nap shower – provided I can walk.”

“Gotcha. Offer t’ carry ya still stands,” Victor replied, while tightening the braided knot in his long hair to keep it dry.

~ ~ ~

Tony could look beyond the feral through the clear window and watch the stars in the night sky over a dark and peaceful ocean. At least, that was how his not-quite-nap had started.

If he had fallen asleep, JARVIS would have woken him in an hour, but Tony had already spent most of that time lying as still as he could while staring at Victor. His bedmate slept, presumably peacefully, beside him – stretched out like a cat in a sunbeam, with one paw on the arc reactor.

Thoughts wandering over everything that had happened since the mutant had appeared and shot his house, his memory snagged over something Victor had said about his dad.

_The Stark Expo put on by the infamous playboy inventor Howard Stark, long before he was saddled with a wife and son: Flushing, New York, 1943. Something doesn’t add up. Victor said he was there. Most of the intel I’ve collected placed him in Germany. SHIELD proved he was a member of the Gestapo in Berlin. Hank said Victor claimed he prefers not to lie – but that was a lie, without a doubt. Huh. Deflection – he doesn’t trust me – which, I guess I knew._

It gave him a sinking feeling, but he couldn’t really blame the man, not after he had freaked out over the truth down in the workshop.

_I have to watch that. I can’t expect him to tell me difficult things he’s experienced if he gets attacked for it._

The plan had been to let Victor sleep the full hour, still amazed – and a little jealous – that he could fall asleep so easily. To his surprise, watching that powerful body at rest, purring no less, ended up making fresh lust creep into every pleasurably aching bit of him.

_Stalker or not, he blows my mind and my body can barely keep up. Scary, wounded, passionate, funny, or even angry – he’s never boring. As for sex, his creativity and shameless lust – to say nothing of physical traits and talents – are off the chart._

Reluctant to wake him, he tried to relax, but his body didn’t want rest now. Watching Victor’s closed eyes began a craving that curled around his growing lust – to see those amber eyes looking at him with warmth and need.

_One night stands don’t care, I’m nothing but a rich celebrity to land or use, and it’s all become hollow – boring, not worth it. Once Pepper slipped out of my grasp, everything else just feels … empty. Then Grendel here wanders into my life and turns it upside down, for better and for worse. Hardly any of that hour left... Well, he did ask for more consent lessons, and I know just the one we need. Odds are it’ll drive us both nuts._

Reaching out, he petted a soft sideburn with the backs of his fingers – on the hand the feral had almost severed.

The eyes cracked open like amber slits, glowing slightly. As they opened wider, Tony was captivated by the warmth in them – exactly what he had wanted – even if he didn’t know how to respond or deal with it.

“Hour’s almost up,” he whispered, and smiled.

*****************************************************************

A gentle touch of fingers woke him without fear. The food, rest, and excitement of mating had conspired with the song of the arc reactor to give him a rare gift – untroubled sleep. It soothed his upset and eased the pain of being chosen – and then set aside.

Seeping into his awareness, Tony’s scent chased muzzy sleep out of his head and his eyes widened, all senses sharpening – his mate was once again in heat.

Regret and sorrow welled up to torment him. _He ain’t yer mate. Faster ya drop that, tha less trouble it can drag ya through._ Staring into those beautiful dark eyes lit by the ghostly night vision of starlight, he almost stopped breathing. _Don’t care... Need t’ be ‘is, can’t care how._

Tony spoke, the tone soft, but hungry. He wanted him. He still wanted him. “Hour’s almost up.”

Victor moved closer and kissed him as a deeper purr thrummed in his throat. Tony was smiling at him and the tangle in his chest eased.

_He ain’t angry no more. Still don’t wanna deal with my shit, though, I bet. Aim fer casual an’ fake it ‘til ya make it – he won’t change ‘is mind._

“I want to play a game – call it another lesson in consent,” the inventor announced with an even brighter smile. “You in?”

“Most o’ tha games I like end with somebody chokin’ on their own blood.” Victor thought about that and added, “Did make a couple folks choke t’ death on my blood, come t’ think o’ it.”

“Ah ... yeah, no. This is a bed game, fun for both parties, although it doesn’t have to involve remaining in bed. First, allow me to introduce you to a concept I’ve become painfully familiar with, largely because of Pepper. I call this the three stages of ‘I don’t want to, but I know I will’: one is complaining, two is arguing; finally, three – pouting while you do it anyway.”

Victor arched an eyebrow at him. “Thought this was a lesson in consent.”

“Technically. Here’s the game: we can kiss and touch any way we like to make each other feel good, but no actual penetration with anything past kissing mouths, and no one is allowed to come. If one of us manages to make the other one come before at least an hour is up, the instigator isn’t allowed to come for the next hour, either.”

“Fuck that shit.”

“Oh, look – step one, in record time.” Tony winked at him and grinned. “Verbal skills are allowed.”

“Rules like that, I’m doomed.”

“Why? You can hold off forever.”

“Ya can’t, Old Faithful. I could make ya come with my tongue tied behind my back.”

“Quite the image.”

“What asshole dreamed this tease crap up?”

“An old girlfriend of mine – she wanted to get me to slow down and stay on second base longer.”

“I’m guessin’ ya didn’t do so hot. Did ya kick ‘er t’ tha curb cuz third an’ home’re more yer speed?”

“Ah, no, I broke it off because she shot me.”

“Solid reason. I can see both sides a bit on that, though.”

Tony snorted. “I bet you can.”

The inventor climbed up to lie on him and when he started to kiss him, Victor groaned into his mouth. The smirk that quirked over him at the sound fluffed his hackles up, spurring his competitive nature into overdrive.

“Ain’t gonna lose this li’l game,” he whispered up at him, the words almost a threat. “Yer fucked, hero.”

“Not for one hour – at the least,” Tony teased.

~ ~ ~

Not surprisingly, despite his earlier protest, Victor had Tony on the ropes in no time. He was splayed on his back as Victor lay cuddled up on his side, plastered to the inventor’s shoulder and hip. His extensive experience and skill with edging had ruined Tony while not allowing him to come.

“How’s Old Faithful doin’ now?”

“Asshole,” Tony accused, without real anger.

“That good, huh? Seems I got ‘im tamed – eatin’ outta my hand, almost. Who woulda thought?”

Victor grinned, bent himself double as if his cat spine was made of rubber, and wrapped his tongue around Tony’s dick again in a spiral, pulling it free as his hand squeezed the base like a cockring to keep him hard, yet giving him no real chance for release.

Tony groaned, his hands fisting at his sides. “God, I want you to blow me so bad...”

Victor straightened and leaned over him to meet his desperate gaze. He kept his expression casual, unaffected – knowing it would drive his lover crazy.

“That ain’t on tha menu, flyboy. See, cuz o’ how yer dick slides in an’ blocks my throat, then I bust out a purr that vibrates ya straight t’ yer fuckin’ balls right before I start t’ swallow ya deeper, an’ ya know I’m willin’ t’ pass out if’n that’s what it takes t’ make ya fill me with yer cum – that there’s ‘penetration’ o’ yer dick int’ my hot tight throat. So that’d break yer rules.”

Tony lay under him, staring and panting. “I hate you just a little right now.”

“Somebody told me recently t’ ‘use my words’. Was that ya, or some other arrogant prig with a goatee who was sittin’ in yer kitchen?” Victor went back to licking down his chest as Tony moaned and clung to him.

“No, that was me. I suck.”

“Later, maybe – after ya lose.”

Because he had discovered he could, he managed to edge Tony for nearly two hours, instead of one. The man had gone non-verbal, back-arched and glorious with dripping sweat and aching heat. Each drip of pre-cum that managed to tip over the edge and slide down the head was licked away by only the tip of his long tongue.

“Ready t’ concede tha victory?” he whispered, nuzzling his neck.

Tony’s trembling hand found and weakly gripped Victor’s forearm as the barest nod was given.

Sliding his outstretched hand down his lover’s slick body, he broke the hold and poised over the flushed dark and leaking cockhead. Carefully and slowly, he loosened his grip at the base of the shaft.

“Gotta confession t’ make,” he murmured, letting his breath puff the words over the full and glistening slit. “Just made ya hold off fer twice tha time limit o’ yer rules.”

The instant Tony’s eyes flew open to stare at him, Victor stuffed his throat full in one lunge downward and swallowed. Convulsing into orgasm, Tony’s body half sat up and his mouth opened wide. The scream rang in his pointed ears like sweet music as he thrummed the purr around his wet grip of that cock, wringing it dry in a few handfuls of thudding and skipping heartbeats.

He didn’t stop toying with it until just before the delicious aftershocks became a hypersensitive wince. When Tony collapsed, Victor moved and curled up at his side. He rested his cheek on a sweaty shoulder and listened as the near-scary heart rate and odd rhythm in the man’s chest settled, along with his breathing.

Scooting up higher, he nuzzled Tony’s hair and when he turned his head, Victor kissed the slightly open lips and breathed his breath into his lover’s body before inhaling Tony’s breath into his. Still unable to speak, the lips under his deepened the kiss.

It was sweeter than how they’d started the game, all challenge and play faded into the closeness of aftercare. The way he was kissed made his heart thump faster, but all urgency was gone, awash in a soft, gentle passion.

Loathe to stop it, he frowned at the gasping nature of the man’s breathing. Victor shifted to kiss his forehead, just to let him breathe.

When Tony shuddered, he groped for a blanket behind him, pulled it past him, and covered the inventor with it. As he slowly blinked and fell into sleep in his arms, Victor ignored his body’s hunger and let it fade while he held the smaller man, giving him his warmth.

“Ya wouldn’t wanna know what I’m thinkin’ now,” he whispered into the dark hair. “Not sure I do. Sleep…”

Victor remained awake and watched over him, monitoring the wounded heart beneath the arc reactor as Tony slept soundly.

~ ~ ~

Almost three hours later, Tony stirred before waking with a slight start. The way he moved his head, it was clear he couldn’t see in the dark bedroom. “Victor?”

Letting him relax to the sound of his purring, Victor didn’t answer with words. He curled closer around his lover and began to lick his chest, moving the blanket away from the reactor so its light would allow the man to see more.

Tony didn’t speak again for another hour, pulling Victor over him. Confident hands gently urged him to take his body, and it was languidly opened and filled, both of them moving slow and easy as Tony’s legs bracketed his hips.

Such a sweet slow mating might not have brought him release with another under him, but this one … he could barely breathe as he thrust, arms keeping his weight off, helping him to be easy.

Tony lifted his head to catch a kiss and the passion he gave, lost in a bemused haze, drove Victor over the edge with a near-silent gasp against his lover’s lips and tongue.

They sank and folded like a silken cloth dropped into a gentle wind. Victor settled on his back and Tony stretched and cuddled in, laying his head on his shoulder. Clever fingers played with the thick and soft thatch of fur at the center of his chest as Victor circled his back with an arm, pulling the blanket around the man again.

“Thank you,” Tony whispered, and faded into sleep once more.

Not sure if he meant the blanket or the mating, Victor turned his head closer to the soft dark hair and let his lungs fill with Tony’s scent until he drifted into the darkness, untroubled by nightmares.

~ ~ ~

Victor woke in the dim bedroom when Tony shifted and moved to sit up.

“Sorry to wake you. I swallowed the desert, and if I don’t get a drink, I may perish. Seriously. You want one?”

“Only if’n ya hate t’ drink alone.”

“If that were true, I wouldn’t drink as much.” Tony got up to rummage in the little collection of bottles and glasses in the room. He returned with a clear crystal bottle that looked more like it held perfume, complete with an ornate stopper. “I’m going to drink from the bottle like a heathen, and you’ll want some, because this is a Macallan 1824 Series No. 6.”

Victor smirked at him in the beamed blue light from his chest as his pupils contracted to slits. That particular single malt ran around $5,000 per 750ml bottle, and he definitely wanted some. As the stopper was pulled, the rich scents of it mixed with Tony’s scent and the cloying sweetness of their mating.

“Impress me, what’s in it, just a few of them,” Tony said, taking a first drink.

“I smell ginger, nutmeg, cinnamon, hint o’ cloves, then oranges, figs, apples – t’ name a few – plus other goodies. I can scent tha Spanish sherry seasoned oak casks they had it in, fer starters.”

“Wow. I need to take you with me the next time I can’t get out of some boring snooty tasting party.”

“I’m game whenever.”

Tony smiled, sat with crossed legs near him, and handed the slender bottle over. “Wouldn’t that cause a stir. Fury would hit the roof.”

Victor snorted and let the splendid scotch warm on his tongue before he swallowed it. “If’n nobody tattles on us, dad won’t find out.”

Laughing as he took the bottle back, he drank again and sighed. “He’s not someone I actually listen to very often, much to his annoyance – it’s a theme for me with authority figures.”

“Got yer tongue back, I see. Renderin’ ya speechless, gotta be a record, huh?”

“Probably.” He tipped the bottle to him, but Victor shook his head. “All mine, then.”

Victor swallowed a sigh. Tony Stark had retreated again – even while he sat inches away from him. Forcing the abrupt restlessness back down, he sat up to match him and reached out to touch the man’s knee with his fingertips. Tony didn’t pull away from the touch, but it was clear he intended to distance himself from how deep they had gone. The scotch was just another thing to hide behind. Victor cast about in his tangled head for a safer topic than what their mating had done to him – again.

“So this tease game bitch that shot ya,” he blurted out, going for broke, “she need killin’?”

Tony managed not to choke on the treasure that he was drinking as if it were swill, but he took the bait right off for avoiding the heavier topics. “Kathy Dare, and no. Sordid tragedy.”

Being astounded by his brash violent-themed crass talk was becoming a comfort zone for the inventor. Watching him closely, intending to learn how to put him at ease so he wouldn’t run away any further, Victor sifted through the facts he knew about the woman. He couldn’t recall what she looked like, but then, Tony might not be able to, either. If she hadn’t shot him, he likely wouldn’t have remembered her name.

“Oh, that’s tha one who shot ya cuz she couldn’t abide by tha non-exclusive clause she agreed t’ prior – then offed ‘erself over it later? Broads. They’re crazy, ya know.”

“Hmm. Two questions. How long have you been stalking me, and how deep does that disturbing misogyny actually go?”

“Started a bit before ya went t’ Afghanistan, but lookin’ up old news stories ‘bout a billionaire playboy is easy as pie.”

“So your penchant for film noir insults to the fairer sex…?”

“I do like some women. Fact that most skirts’re useless idiots who dunno their own fuckin’ minds ain’t my fault. I like tha ones that do know that shit.”

“You mean the ones who let you have anything you want?”

Victor sighed. “Nope. Some o’ ‘em gimme a solid non-negiotiable no, but we’re still friends.”

“Huh. I would give a lot to meet even one of your female friends. I bet I’d hear some interesting stories.”

“Frail that shot ya – she’s yer reason fer no relationships?”

“Skirt and frail? Geez, those are worse than broad. Curbing that just a tad would be great. No, she’s not the only one, she’s on a list, actually. Sunset Bain, knew her when I was an undergrad at MIT, seduced me to get security codes for my dad’s company. I was naïve and an idiot.”

“Young, dumb, an’ full o’ cum.”

“Ah, yeah. ‘Colorful’ doesn’t begin to describe you.”

“Thanks,” Victor said with a teasing grin.

“That wasn’t a compliment, per se. Last swallow, last chance? No? Okay…” Draining the bottle, he put the stopper back in it. “Set that on the nightstand? Pepper’s mom wants the bottle. Thanks.”

Steering him back on topic, Victor asked, “So they all worked t’ screw ya over ‘til ya said ‘fuck it’?”

“I just … decided it was less messy – for everyone – if I stuck with one night stand material.”

With a hopeful thump, Victor’s heart rose back into his chest. Keeping his tone teasing, he asked, “Gonna put Pepper in that barrel if’n she ever lets ya?”

Tony frowned slightly, his tone a warning. “We are not discussing Pepper.”

Shrugging, he inwardly cursed. _Least I found that line._ “Suit yerself.”

The inventor stretched, wincing slightly. “I hope I’m going to be able to walk tomorrow.”

Victor laid back and lifted his bent knees, thighs parting in invitation as he snagged pillows to lounge against. He handed one to Tony, who was raising his eyebrows at him.

“Sounded like ‘switch’ t’ me.” He arched his hips to lift his ass, and the man stuffed the pillow under his lower back, even as he shook his head.

“You’re incorrigible. I may need to sleep for days after the boys leave tomorrow afternoon.”

“Bet they ain’t as much fun as me.”

“That is likely true. With you in my bed, I feel like I can’t escape my own libido.”

“Good. If’n ya can’t get away, I get my fill.” He crossed his wrists under his head and waited breathlessly for his lover – his mate – to fill him again.

*****************************************************************

Tony felt like a moth pulled to a flame, and he fought just as much, which was not at all. The singe of the feral’s heat was a drug. He nearly cursed aloud when he couldn’t find the lube at first, so he talked instead.

“Can I be honest here?”

“Shoot.” Victor found the bottle with no trouble and handed it to him without comment.

“I know how to do a great prep, I swear, but you not needing it and for the most part not even wanting it – well, it’s one of your best assets. For us mere mortals, attending to prep while attempting to make it sexy and getting things just so for safety? Wow, sometimes, and this is awful to say, but…”

“It gets so tedious, every damn time, ya end up also tryin’ not t’ lose yer fuckin’ stiffy?”

“Ah, exactly, yes. Alas, it makes me sound like a selfish bastard.”

Victor unfurled his heavy gorgeous arms and sat up enough to reach him. He took the lube out of his hands and slicked his cock for him, making it erotic as hell with only a few strokes, while also making him painfully hard and ready. Then he wiped his fingers off on Tony’s chest, making a gleaming circle on the skin around the reactor.

“Most folks already think yer a selfish bastard.”

Tony let out a delighted laugh right before Victor leaned in farther, the long rough tongue lashing over his nipple. With a gasp, he muttered, “Present company excluded?”

Leaning back against the piled pillows, Victor smirked. “Maybe.”

Relieved he was in the mood to keep it light this time, Tony gripped his slick cock and helped it stab inside that amazing warm and tight heaven. “So are you going to let me fuck you as often as I can get it back up?”

“Much as ya want, any way ya want,” the feral replied, his tone dropping into that dark silken rasp.

Tony pushed inside deeper and shivered, not sure if it was the mind-melting grip on his cock or the low erotic voice that got to him. “Use your words,” Tony urged him, greedy and eager. “Dirty them up, if you like.”

“Wanna sleep at yer side stuffed full o’ yer cum,” he responded. “When I gotta leave, gonna keep it inside.”

Baffled, shower-happy Tony asked, “Why?”

“Cuz I wanna smell like ya bred me, fer as long as I can.”

“Wow.” Almost speechless again, he pulled back and drove in harder. “Okay, dirty crude is fun.”

In the end, he wasn’t equal to the mutant’s stamina, but he did manage to give him what he wanted. With the term ‘cum slut’ floating in his head, he learned many new little things about what could be erotic until the window began to lighten.

By the time he dropped onto his back he was a rag. The blonde curled up around him, forehead touching his shoulder, and panted warm breath against his skin.

“JARVIS, wake me – gently – at ten sharp.”

“Certainly, sir.”

The feral was silent, but Tony was afraid to ask what he was thinking.

_Victor seems to tense whenever I speak to JARVIS. It makes no sense – he’s tech savvy enough to realize the AI isn’t a threat to him … isn’t he? Maybe not – if he thinks my house is a trap. It has to be his feral nature overriding any skills with social cues he has managed to learn to read in others. I certainly don’t give off ‘I’m out to get you’ vibes, but I can’t program JARVIS not to give my feral guests 1984 Big Brother heebie-jeebies._

Tony placed a hand on the heavy bicep he could reach and let his thumb stroke the soft skin over rigid muscle until the massive mutant relaxed again. He hoped Victor would sleep, but drifted off himself while he was thinking about it.

~ ~ ~

Skipping breakfast for coffee and some good old American/Canadian international relations (screwing Victor’s magnificent ass while bending him over the kitchen counter) turned out to be an excellent decision. He wasn’t entirely on board with the no shower idea, but too sleepy and too horny conspired against him.

“Gonna run fer tha shower now?” the mutant asked, not quite successful in hiding the slight snear in his tone as he yanked his lounge pants up and turned.

“I can hold off until you leave, if you’re not willing to join me in one.” Tony tucked things away in his pants, retrieved his coffee, and handed the other mug to Victor. “You are adept at driving me wild – no average sack buddy can convince me to delay a shower when I smell like the floor of a brothel. Bravo.”

Victor sat on one of the stools at the table and drank the sugar coffee down. “Ivy Leaguers… Ya never been in a real brothel, have ya?”

“Not Ivy League, MIT is a STEM-oriented school.”

The pointed ears pinned. “What tha fuck’s stem?”

“Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics – STEM. The Brass Rat boys aren’t as stuffed-shirt as the Ivy boys.”

“Coulda fooled me. Now an’ then ya don’t make a lick o’ sense.”

Tony smiled and drifted closer, still standing. “Actually, I have been in a brothel – on a dare during our college days – Rhodey’s fault. He insists now he kept forgetting my age at the time, but the ladies only saw my last name and didn’t ask for ID. It was fun, until I ended up fixing the wiring in their kitchen – my idea, and that was still fun, to be honest. Having a pair of beautiful nude women handing you tools is an experience not to be passed up.”

Moving behind the mutant, he leaned a forearm across the wide bull shoulders and finished his coffee. Handing it to him, he leaned down and licked an earlobe. The immediate shuddering response was entertaining. Both mugs rattled on the table when Victor quickly put them down.

“Ears huh, like the fangs? If only I’d known that – or remembered the fang-licking – during our game. So, in the interest of science…” He shifted and leaned both forearms on Victor’s shoulders, hands dangling. Tilting his head, he ran his tongue up the outside of the ear and then sucked once experimentally on the pointed tip. “Hello.”

Tony grinned. Victor growled low, a definite sound of lust. A moment later, he slid the ear tip into his mouth again and sucked it harder – more or less using blowjob techniques in miniature. A bit of teeth got things going, and he gleefully watched the feral’s dick get hard again in his loose pants.

Whispering into his ear, Tony asked, “Are you as stuffed as you wanted to be yet?”

“Don’t care if’n no more’ll fit, fuck me again…”

“Refractory period says you have to endure me sucking on your ears a while longer first.” The groan that got him made Tony chuckle as he switched to breathe on the other ear. “Care for a rematch?”

Victor’s whole body tensed under him. “Nope, cuz yer ‘bout t’ make me come in my damn britches.”

“Sounds like fun. Britches? Oh, that’s awesome. Are you sure you won’t shower with me? Your other end is going to stay nice and tight, after all – scrubbing the rest won’t disrupt your ultimate goal. Plus, your hair is going to end up looking like an ‘80s Pop princess if we mess it up any more.”

He got his way, after deliberately making Victor come in his pants via sucking on ears and pinching nipples. He would have called it revenge for the cum slut stunt, but then the feral pointed out that it merely proved his point – Tony was finding it erotic, fastidious or not.

Keeping the shower merely a shower was rough on them both. Tony dried off while watching Victor braid his damp hair into a thick heavy rope. The blonde got into his duffel bag and dressed quickly in black jeans and t-shirt. When he turned, Tony smiled at the band name and mascot depicted on the shirt.

“Disturbed? Are you a fan of the band, or is that just a helpful public advisory?”

Victor snorted, but didn’t answer. He sat on the end of the wrecked bed to put on socks and weighty combat boots. Apparently, now that the last morning was bringing their so-called date to an end, the feral was in a hurry to get it overwith. Tony was torn between wanting to slow him down and not wanting to give him mixed signals.

Turning away, he dressed in similar comfy clothes, sans the commando habit. When Victor had his things gathered, Tony followed him out to the black Hummer that crouched in the circular drive like the unknown monster from the Scottish loch in that _Synchronicity II_ song by the Police.

He was about share the joke, but Victor surprised him by merely climbing in. He tossed the bag onto the passenger side. For some odd reason, it sat next to a wilted and browning white rose.

Tony moved into the space so he couldn’t immediately shut the door. He watched as the window was rolled down. Taking a breath, he plunged into a final question. It needed to be addressed.

“Have you told me any lies this weekend?”

Victor predictably dropped his gaze down to one side. “Maybe … one.”

“Maybe. Okay. Let’s take that at face value for now. What was the lie?”

“Ya know.”

“Yes, I do, but I count two, one being that you weren’t fine when you claimed to be. Tell me the other one.”

Victor lifted his head a bit, watching Tony through loose hair that had escaped the braid. “Never went t’ that expo yer pa had, with tha flyin’ car demo. Saw a documentary film ‘bout ‘im years later an’ it showed tha footage o’ that.”

“You didn’t go because you were in Europe, as early as 1941.”

“1939, Austria – never shoulda gone over there.”

“The expo was in 1943.”

“Yeah…”

“Why tell me that?”

“Didn’t wanna tell ya what I was doin’ in ‘43. Had no idea ya already knew.”

“I know very little, broad brush strokes, but yes. I didn’t really think about it at the time when you said that – I was too stunned to hear you mention my dad.”

“It was a nicer li’l white lie. Figured if’n ya knew tha truth…”

“I’m still standing here.”

“Fer now, maybe. Least this time, I’m tha one walkin’ away.”

“So I have to ‘earn it’ if I want to know more about some of the issues that are behind the problems I’m stumbling over or stepping on? How do I go about doing that?”

“Fer starters, ask me direct, ‘steada pumpin’ McCoy fer all he knows.”

Tony straightened and met his shrewd stare. “Of course you figured that out. What gave me away? Can you actually smell that I was around him months ago? I shower a lot.”

“A bit, yeah. Don’t need that, though – pretty much common sense ya’d go fer answers there.”

“Well, there was no pumping, I assure you. I just asked what you wanted me to – about what you are. You didn’t leave me any other options at the time. I bet you’d rather I didn’t get my information from law enforcement’s Acronym Soup. All they know are crimes, anyway – your criteria.”

“McCoy give ya good dirt? Tell ya all ‘bout how evil I am?”

“No, it was a scientific exchange about feral mutant biology and behavior. He was fair to you, actually, and helped me understand a lot.”

“Imagine that shit. Did ya land on Cueball’s doorstep that same mornin’ after walkin’ out on me?”

“Yes? We didn’t exactly have a plan to hang out all day, what with you being late for Helsinki, and me needing to get back to work.”

“Ya wanna keep on tha down-low, don’t ya, tha fact that we been fuckin’?”

“Preferably, yes – easier for both of us. Why?”

“Nothin’ – I’m sure it’s fine an’ dandy.”

Slightly pricked, Tony stepped back a bit. “Hank doesn’t know. He would have told me.”

Victor snorted and shut his door, almost slamming it. “Sure, flyboy. Bet he don’t. Gotta make tracks.”

Tony hooked his fingers in the open window and winked at the blonde. “Did he really bribe you with candy? If that works, I can use that. Was it the good stuff?”

That almost cracked the wry smirk into a real smile – almost.

“Bastard had Brach’s Butterscotch Discs. Def works.”

“Filing that away for later.”

“Ya plannin’ t’ let go o’ my door, or are we gonna stare int’ each other’s eyes ‘til yer law an’ order buddies get here?”

Stifling a sigh, Tony moved his fingers and stepped out of the way, squashing the impulse to try for a kiss.

 _His body language, real or a mask, gives the impression it wouldn’t be a welcome gesture. The most frustrating thing about that is, I have absolutely no clue why. I guess I should be glad he isn’t trying to kill me to keep me, and just leave it alone._ “Be good, Mufasa.”

“Not bloody likely,” Victor groused.

The feral backed the Hummer up to turn it around, rather than using the roundabout. He did stop for only a moment and stared at him as if trying to remember every detail of his face and body – like he thought it would be the last time he had the chance.

Tony let the sigh go. “Don’t be a stranger,” he muttered, knowing Victor could hear him. It was the same thing he’d said in New York. _Is he not aware that means ‘call me’?_ The mutant just stared at him before turning his head and driving away.

Facing the empty house, he frowned. Pepper might be another hour, especially if she was purposely trying to give them space. Rhodey and Coulson wouldn’t arrive for hours yet.

“Suck it up, get back to work,” he muttered, and went in.

~ ~ ~

The workshop was quiet, and since he had asked JARVIS to hush and let him think, a pin drop would have been loud. He moved over to the Trossi and stared down at the destroyed concrete beside the pad it sat on. He was still staring at it, lost in thought, when the keypad beeped. He didn’t have to look up.

Pepper rounded the corner of equipment and tables holding a tablet, and he took it when she handed it to him. Then she saw the mess.

“What happened? Are those … claw marks? Tony? What did he do?”

“Ah, that was, actually, collateral damage from … a good time.”

“He rips up concrete and cuts steel toolboxes for a good time?”

Clearing his throat, Tony took refuge in skim-reading the tablet. As he signed, Pepper watched him. She looked needlessly worried when he glanced up. He handed her the tablet and her stylus, and then shrugged absently.

“He got into it. Anyhow, concrete is cheaper to replace than my sheets.”

“Are you planning to … see him again?”

“Probably. Dual busy schedules, though.” He turned away to retreat to his desk again. “Oh, sorry – was this going to be a lecture about my bad taste in playmates?” He shot a charming smirk over his shoulder at her.

“No, it wasn’t.”

She followed him, but passed by to return to the door while schooling her expression into feigned casual interest. Hugging the tablet to her chest was a nervous tell he planned to ignore.

“If he can make you happy, I’m glad. Just ... be careful. You know why. It’s a long list.”

“I know why. I’m not marrying Victor. He’s ... fun and outrageously different.”

“And one of the oddest pet projects you’ve ever dreamed up. What are you trying to do?”

Tony sighed. “Make a difference? Show him another way? I’m winging it, here. No one else is trying anything beyond locking him up, executing him, or brainwashing him into a weapon – for our government, I might add. None of that works for long. Time for a new approach.”

“That – man – is a scary mess.”

“He is. He’s also weirdly a decent person by his own code, despite his problems and criminal record. I do love a challenge.”

“Good thing. Criminal records, plural, in the felony deep end.”

“Duly noted. I’m being careful.”

“You’re being deliberately vague. How does spending a weekend – in bed – ‘show him another way’?”

“Ah. I’m teaching him the concept of consent, which seems to run afoul of feral instincts at times. If I can get him to tone down the misogyny and non-mutant racism – bonus.”

“Toning down the murder for hire career would also be a plus.”

“Low-hanging fruit first, although my jury’s still out on whether or not most of his targets deserve what they get. Hydra deserves it. Your advice helped, by the way. You also can’t fool me; I saw how you waxed all sympathetic to his plight. You don’t hate him, or you wouldn’t have helped.”

“Thinking he’s a potential danger is all the more reason to caution you not to treat him as badly as you can some of your mini obessions. It has nothing to do with hating him, which I don’t. However, I’m not looking to add a sociopath assassin to my list of friends, or … playmates.”

“You have playmates?”

“No changing the subject after freaking me out all weekend.”

“Fair enough.”

“Besides, I’m constantly working. My boss is a full-time handful.”

“True. Has my schedule changed, Miss Pots?”

He arched an eyebrow at her and was rewarded with one of her little smiles that always changed everything for the better.

“It has, Mr. Stark. Rhodey and Agent Coulson will be here this afternoon at three. I moved your four o’clock, since I know you didn’t want to do that anyway.”

“You’re a treasure.”

“Uh-huh. It’s only moved to tomorrow at two o’clock, you still have to meet them.”

“I mean it – light of my life,” he called, as she went out the door and headed upstairs.

Turning back to his desk, he paused when he spotted Victor’s blunderbuss forgotten on a work table beyond it. Seeing it made him turn and he looked across the room at the roadster. The broken fang was still hanging from the windshield. He sat in his chair heavily with a huff and frowned.

“JARVIS, play me the new music from Victor’s collection.”

“Which artist or genre, sir?”

“Something old, jazzy or bluesy, but you pick. Thrill me.”

As a simple acoustic Blues song began, the lyrics made him sigh. _JARVIS doesn’t know – it’s just a morbid coincidence._ “What is this one?”

“A famous Blues song from 1936, sir: _Sweet Home Chicago_ by Robert Johnson. Shall I change it?”

“No, it’s fine. Maybe he’s just a retro _Blues Brothers_ fan.” Tony tapped the glass to bring up the keyboard and get back to work as the King of the Delta Blues singers crooned on.

Oh, baby don’t you want to go?  
Oh, baby don’t you want to go?  
back to the land of California  
to my sweet home Chicago

Now one and one is two  
Two and two is four  
I’m heavy loaded, baby  
I’m booked, I gotta go

Cryin’ baby  
Honey don’t you want to go?  
back to the land of California  
to my sweet home Chicago

As he tapped on the keys to begin his next design, he tried not to think about what had happened in Chicago. Remembering the argument with Victor led to the memory of what the feral had said about him not kissing Pepper on the roof.

_So clearly, he saw that._

Tony couldn’t suppress a shudder at the thought of that private moment of breathless hope being witnessed by an assassin stalker.

_My botched attempt to be with Pepper. Then she shot me down before the press conference when I tried to bring it up, and I couldn’t honestly blame her. I’ve been too spooked – or too singed – to try again, but there was ... something ... between us._

Tony stopped typing with a quiet curse and got up to fetch a drink. He downed it, and poured another.

_You were an idiot. One look at a pretty redhead in a backless dress and off you went. You didn’t even realize the woman was Pepper until she turned, but you still went, and only partly to escape Coulson. You came on just like you always do when you start trolling for the next one night stand, and she knew it, having seen it in action often enough – like lots of other people in that room. She was worried about being seen as someone who sleeps with her boss to get ahead – she even tried to say so, but you weren’t listening._

The warmth of the scotch spread through him, but two wasn’t going to be enough and maybe ten wasn’t going to be, either. Resolutely pouring a third, he brought the bottle with him and sank into the couch.

_She still went to the roof, though – to have privacy – and almost kissed me. If I’d come back with her martini, overcrowded with olives, where would we be now?_

With enough scotch in him, maybe he’d find the answer.

_Is there a balance between saving other people’s lives and saving my own? No, there isn’t. People being hurt by my weapons come first – they have to. Pepper understands ... she also knows me – maybe too well._

The music continued, oddly singing about going back to California, to his Sweet Home Chicago.

Snorting, he poured and drank again, grateful for the distraction. “Mr. Johnson, you needed a better map.” _What if Victor likes this song because I’m his Sweet Home Chicago, who happens to live in California? I better have more scotch down here._

He wanted to be angry about what Victor had done, and somewhere, deep and unexamined, he knew he was. Yet now, feeling the regrets – all over again – of the mess he’d made with Pepper, he had to face a few ugly facts.

_If Victor were here at this moment, you’d screw him just to feel better. Band-aid or itch to scratch, that’s your thing._

Tony frowned at the unwanted memory of a woman he’d been with in college. He and Rhodey had crashed a frat party. She’d been twenty-three to his fifteen, tall and gorgeous – a psychology major from another school. She had blown his mind with her brain and her body, and he’d wanted to see her again. He wasn’t used to being told no, then or now. Her response had been wordy and pretentious – but he had swallowed it down as the best way to avoid feeling the way she’d left him feeling.

_‘Sex for the sake of releasing tension and then moving on is easy, simple, clean and bloodless. Emotional attachment is complex, and risky. Where has loving people gotten you so far?’_

His thoughts had arrowed to his dad – not where he had wanted them at that specific messy and humiliating moment – and the barb had sunk deep, intended or not. Howard Stark didn’t get told no, and he clearly didn’t care how much his son had tried to love him.

An idea floated, detached and buzzing, through his scattered thoughts as he drank: that there could be some odd correlation between that scathing lesson and Victor’s constantly morphing behavior toward him, but he couldn’t grasp it. It was psychology and emotions, after all, and so not his forte.

_He said he pushed me, out in the Arctic Circle, because he thought I wouldn’t do it unless he mashed enough slut buttons – or something like that – and he wanted me too much not to try. In Chicago, he found me splayed and urging another man to fuck me. Instinctual response to kill the rival and win the mate, or taking a shot at something he assumed he’d never have? Does he really have no clue how awful that was?_

Tony had never wanted to admit to himself that the young man Victor had killed had died because the spoiled rich brat he still was at times had wanted to do something risky and reckless – to combat stress, ghosts, and having to watch Pepper in a low-cut gown all night.

_Was that risky and reckless enough for you? The guy was torn apart and thrown away like garbage! Messy, public – like a final insult, or barbaric warning._

Tony cursed again and drank – another long pull on a bottle that was never going to help him forget that. Shying from it, his thoughts swayed and crashed back to the bed, the tie blindfold, and the moment when lust had alchemized into terror.

The memory of the horror in that hotel suite was dredged up all over again, until anger and denial chased it back down.

_He wouldn’t have killed you or ripped the reactor out of your chest. He can’t carry an STD. Even drunk, you knew he was being careful, almost gentle. You had no idea it was someone else until..._

Wincing, he shied away from calling it what it was. He didn’t want to deal with that, or be that. His stomach flipped as he shoved it away. Now that he knew it was Victor, it was easier to remember it that way. Victor had likely seen it as mating, therefore sex, and that meant Tony didn’t have to call it the other thing.

_Just call it sex – he’s damn good at it. If you can enjoy it with him, then the other issue doesn’t matter, does it?_

His betraying stomach twisted again, the rising bile becoming the taste of the lie.

_What the hell is wrong with me – I like screwing him, even after what he did. That has to be nuts. I want to call it sex and forget it! Why can’t I stop going in circles about it?_

Rising to get the next bottle, he was still steady on his feet – but he no longer wanted to be.

Tony turned and aimed at the recycle bin, grunting when the empty bottle broke inside it. Opening the next, he left the glass on the counter and began pouring the scotch down his throat as if it could drown it all.

 _This is stupid._ He gasped out a breath as he gripped the back of the couch. _You know you wish he was still here so you could fuck him. When he looks at you like you’re a god, a gift, you wish it was true, so you let him … let him try to make you believe it._

Gulping at the bottle again, he let go of the couch to lean on it and squeezed his dick in his jeans. Its half-response felt like a betrayal. Letting it go, he did stagger.

“Sir, did you wish me to call Miss Potts, or Mr. Hogan?”

Tony glared up at the soft and concerned voice coming from the ceiling. His decision was instant. When he feared something, he often felt grabbing it by the handful was the only way to kill the fear.

“Call Victor.” He made it to the couch. “Call him now,” he ordered, and worked on killing the new bottle with a vengeance.

Silence reigned for a moment, and then the AI responded, “Dialing Victor Creed, sir.”

*****************************************************************

Victor turned away onto his side when Perrin moved off him. His gaze fell on the fireplace mantel, to the trophies of his failures: the crystal box held golden hair that smelled like lavender, and atop it, the Adamanium and diamond engagement ring Tabitha had rejected – from a distance of mistakes, more than miles. It still held her scent, from when she had placed it there. He had never touched either object since.

Perrin curled up against his back, soft lips kissing his shoulder. “You’re still melancholy. Are there questions you want to ask? I wish to help you, Victor – don’t let this sink you down again, please.”

“Wanna walk away from Stark – dunno if I can.”

“Does he know – how you feel?”

“Got no idea what he thinks he knows.” He frowned, but then took a chance. “Tha man fucks me blind, turns me inside out, acts like he needs it as bad, as intense, as me. When it’s over, he keeps sayin’, ‘let’s keep it light, it’s ‘sposed t’ be fun’, an’ then he jokes ‘bout me not askin’ ‘im t’ prom. Gotta translation fer that shit?”

“Odds are, he suspects or even knows you have deeper feelings, but that sounds like a warning not to pursue it.”

“Got me suspectin’ it’s Tony-speak fer ‘let’s have sex on my terms with no strings’ with a dash o’ ‘go away before tha cum starts t’ get sticky’. Can’t really blame ‘im, he was upfront ‘bout tha no strings shit.”

“I suppose. The ratio of honest interest he at times receives versus gold-digging intentions is bound to be rather lopsided. He may not know how to react to honest desire – or he’s afraid of it.”

“Or I ain’t what he wants, plain an’ simple. At least he knows I ain’t in tha gold-digger bunch – got my own gold. How he acts, though – like he wants a mate, not just sex – ‘til tha minute it’s over; then he runs away, even if he don’t move an inch. What tha fuck is that? Confusin’ bull – leaves me ... well, feelin’ like shit, t’ be honest.”

“That’s why I wish he wouldn’t toy with you – what you feel for him is an honest want, which may be more – for you, at least.”

“Don’t matter none. Gonna take what he’s willin’ t’ give an’ move outta ‘is way when he wants me gone.” He winced from just imagining Perrin’s expression, hardly able to believe the wretched words himself.

“We both know what you usually call that sort of arrangement in others.”

Victor almost growled, but his heart wasn’t in it. He’d faced an ugly truth on the flight up from LAX, and the empty feeling of loss had widened with every mile in between. In a desperate attempt to reject that truth, he had tried to scrub Tony off and out of him the moment he arrived in his suite, but the scent and the truth remained.

“Guess if’n that makes me ‘is bitch, don’t care. Blame tha inner beastie – he got claimed an’ then turned loose cuz tha fool had no idea what he was doin’. Can’t blame ‘im fer that, neither – he ain’t a feral an’ he dunno any o’ that shit.”

Perrin went still at his back, and then released a held breath to answer. “We need to be clear – your feral self feels that Stark took you for a mate and you submitted to him? That could be a problem.”

“Preachin’ t’ tha choir, boy.”

Victor twitched when the phone went off on the nightstand, playing a snippet of Black Sabbath’s _Iron Man_. The ringtone change had seemed darkly funny on the jet; now it just made him clench his teeth. Reluctantly, he glanced back at his bedmate.

Perrin frowned and sighed. “Do you want me to go?”

He did growl as he reached for the phone. “Yeah.” He waited to answer it until the boy left and closed the double doors. _What tha fuck now?_ One deep breath helped the mask slide into place. “It’s yer nickel, shoot.”

“Victor…”

The name was slightly slurred. Anger morphed into a flash of feral protection instinct.

 _If he’s in trouble, or hurt..._ “Talk t’ me – where are ya?”

“Workshop. I need to know something.”

“Tell me.”

In the silence that followed, he heard a bottle being drained. He was home, and drunk.

“Why did you…? No, no, scratch that…” His breathing changed – he was upset.

“Tony, what’s happened?”

The inventor laughed, a humorless and bitter sound. “I don’t have a damn clue. I was working, thinking about screwing up my chance with Pepper. Then … the song. Victor, in Chicago, if I had agreed to meet you, would you have come to my suite?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“And if I wanted sex, would you have done it?”

“Tony, ya know that. Yes.”

“Then why…”

A cold and curling fear pierced his belly. “Why what?” The man fell quiet. “Tony…” The bottle again, the breathing uneven – he was getting deliberately wasted, alone.

“Nothing, I just… It’s nothing. I knew a woman once in college, and she told me that even if I want something, if I don’t like me much, that … she said that self-hatred can kill desire, can damage the capacity to feel, make it difficult to … accept affection. Would you agree with that statement?”

Fear twisted into confusion as he struggled to follow what the man was saying, while still afraid of what he might say.

“Agree with it?”

“Victor, yes – don’t be an idiot, you are not an idiot – if you hate yourself, if I do, it’s hard to let people in. Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“It’s hard because we’ve been hurt. It isn’t our fault, right? Tell me it isn’t.”

“Ain’t our fault.”

“Victor…” The voice was shaking. “You didn’t mean it, tell me that – you didn’t mean it.”

He froze, barely able to breathe. “Didn’t,” he whispered, not daring to ask what he meant.

“Okay, okay…” His tone flooded with relief, Tony let out a sigh. “So help me out here, help me turn my frown upside down. You’re into this, the phone thing. Tell me...”

“Are ya askin’ if I want ya? Ya know I do. Tony ... do ya want me t’ help ya feel good?”

The pause nearly choked him, but then the whispered slurred words almost killed him. “Yes … I do. How you look at me – I need that. I wish you were here.”

Victor swallowed hard. “If’n I had a way quick ‘nuff, I would be. I’d go back out there anyhow, if ya asked.”

“No, Rhodey and Coulson. Are going to be here. This afternoon – perfect. I forgot. I can’t be this trashed... I could fly your way in the suit. Where are you?”

“Canada.”

“That’s a ... rather wide target. No offense to Canada…”

“Ya can’t fly wasted. Slow down, try t’ relax. Are ya at tha desk, roadster, what?”

“Couch.”

“Put tha bottle down, Tony – put it down an’ touch yerself fer me. Stroke a hand over yer chest, an’ touch yer cock.”

He heard the bottle thunk down on something. Tony’s breathing was still irregular, but he sounded less panicked as his belt buckle clinked.

“In the suite, if I let you in, if I let you…”

“If ya had lemme have ya, I woulda made ya feel good, gonna do that now. Take yer cock out fer me an’ touch it.”

“I wish I could see you. You need a phone like mine.”

“Hush, now. Grip that luscious cock. If’n I was there, I’d suck it. Remember how that feels.”

Coaxing him into it, his own body on fire with heat but forgotten, he lead Tony past that block of self-hatred he was all too familiar with and slowly began to lull him into feeling pleasure. The first reward of hearing his breathing change again, becoming more calm and relaxed, allowed him to calm, too.

“Do it,” Tony whispered, a gentle urging that made Victor’s body ache. “Touch yourself, too. If you were here now ... Victor, come on…”

He was almost afraid he’d come just from the first grip around his cock, with that trembling whisper in his ear.

“Tell me you want me, Victor.”

“Tony, god – I want ya more’n breath. Stroke it fer me, come fer me…”

Victor let a purr loose and heard Tony grunt and groan, heard his hand abusing his cock as he came. He cried out, sounding surprised.

“Oh, geez, how do you do that? I couldn’t even get hard before, but you make me pop like a damn teenager. Get yourself off for me, come on.”

He couldn’t have held back if he was told to. Barely stroking, he let that ruined voice push him to come – let Tony hear what he’d done to him, how unraveled, raw, and undefended he felt.

“The way you fall apart... That really polishes my ... wounded ego.”

Mere moments later, the inventor’s breathing evened out and slowed – and the ambient sounds around him abruptly made sense. Tony was probably not even holding his phone to call him; he’d had the house do it.

“Sleep, Tony…”

The man didn’t answer, likely already asleep. He could hear him breathing – the connection was still open.

Underneath the gentle breath, a quiet spinning song lulled Victor’s heart rate.

He held the phone to his ear and settled, not caring about anything else, and let the siren song of the arc reactor and the breathing of his mate soothe him into sleep.

**FINI.**

(Sabretooth will return in _Unstoppable_.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kathy Dare and Sunset Bain are women from the Iron Man comics. The psychology major from the frat party is my own invention. It often bugs me that casual references are made to Tony’s wild college days and few even seem to care that he was a teen boy for most of that. Victor doesn’t really balk at it because of his perspective from the time he grew up in, when a teen was a legal adult – and yet Victor goes after modern pedophiles with murderous results. “The Brass Rat” is what MIT alumni call the mascot beaver on their class rings. Tony can be seen wearing one in Iron Man 1 when he goes to the Stark benefit for fire fighters.
> 
> In the 1980 film "Blues Brothers", the song "Sweet Home Chicago" is played, but with slightly different lyrics than the 1936 recording by Robert Johnson. “Lovin’ spoonful” is another of Victor’s musical references. The Lovin’ Spoonful is an American rock band that formed in 1965. Most average ejaculates produce approximately a teaspoon of semen, hence his joke. Grendel is the monster from the classic "Beowulf". The Big Brother themed novel "1984" was written by George Orwell. This ends "Over the Edge". As usual, if I find any typos, I’ll fix them as I find them.
> 
> For anyone reading my non-Sabey tales, I’m late on updating the other WIPs. I’ll get back to that, I promise. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic)


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